Tell me my name
by Becks Rylynn
Summary: Even the most perfect of lives can be shattered in an instant. Lila Bray Winchester 'verse AU.
1. Once I was ordinary

_AN: NOBODY GET EXCITED! I am not OFFICIALLY back! I just have limited internet access for the time being, so I thought I'd let you all in on the summer story I am now working on. It's a Lila Bray story and it's basically a 'what if she had THIS kind of life' story. It's actually the first in a series. The series is 'Five Lives Bray Could Have Lived' and the reason all five stories are not in one big collection is because some of them got longer than I had planned. Like this one. It was supposed to be really short and look how long it turned out to be. So, anyway, I hope you all enjoy and...yeah...I really miss you all! Summer is unbelievably dull._

* * *

**Title:**_ Tell me my name  
_**Summary: **Even the most perfect of lives can be shattered in an instant. Lila Bray 'verse AU. First story in the 'Five Different Lives Lila Bray Winchester Could Have Lived' Series.  
**Characters:** Dean Winchester, Ruby, Lila Bray Winchester (OFC), Sam Winchester, John and Mary Winchester, etc.  
**Pairing:** Dean/Ruby.  
**Genre:** Family/Tragedy  
**Rating:** T for theme.  
**Timeline:** It varies throughout the story. It's the story of their lives so it goes through quite a few years.  
**Spoilers:** None stated.  
**Warnings:** There is a birth scene in the first part that is probably mild to medium on the graphic scale. Plus, I do have to mention that there will be extreme angst, extreme AU, a human!Ruby and some major character deaths.  
**Notes:** The title comes from the poem _Maenad _by Sylvia Plath. Chapter titles are also taken from various Plath poems.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything.

* * *

**Tell me my name**

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

**Part One  
**_''Once I was ordinary''_

* * *

Dean and Ruby Winchester had a love story that made people go ''aww'' right from the beginning.

They met in college. In a psychology class, as odd as that sounds. Neither one of them were particularly into psychology, but they were both very opinionated and they both liked to be right. So when he answered a question and she vehemently disagreed, they naturally had to spend the rest of the class locked in a heated 'discussion' much to the chagrin of their professor and classmates. Their spectacle was helped along by the fact that neither one of them liked to be upstaged. They both knew they were smart and they didn't appreciate it when people disagreed with them because they were so clearly right all of the time. They got nowhere by the end of the class, both were totally and completely set in their ways and nothing would change that.

It was easy for them to dislike each other.

But still...

...Something drew them towards each other; an unapologetic magnetic force that pulled them into each other's gravity. He approached her after class, armed with a charming smile and a cocky, slightly arrogant offer of, ''What do you say we call a truce, sweetheart?''

Unlike all those other women he charmed, she was the only one to throw it back in his face with a smirk and a, ''You keep calling me sweetheart and we're going to have much bigger problems than an argument in a psych class, cowboy.''

But she was smiling and he was smiling and it was almost like a switch had gone off in their brains, telling them that this was it.

Years later, he would tell his enthralled children that she had him wrapped around her finger the moment she turned around.

* * *

It happened naturally.

They dated, fell in love, ended up engaged and were married before they even graduated college. Her mother loved him, his family adored her and they were in love. They were just one of those couples, you know? You'd spot them walking across campus and he'd be talking on his cell phone and she'd be searching through her bag for that elusive textbook and both would be engrossed in their own separate lives and yet he'd still have her hand held loosely in his own as if he were afraid if he let go, he'd lose her and never find her again. Stopping outside the Art History building, they would still be majorly distracted what with him talking his brother through whatever latest high school crisis the boy was involved in and her still searching for that MIA book, but they'd both pause just long enough to kiss for a moment that seemed to linger on and on.

It was almost sickening really. For two people who ''hated PDA'' they sure did it a lot. But they were young and in love and what was wrong with that?

They got married on a sunny day in May in his parent's backyard. It was small and she didn't have the Cinderella ball gown and there was no string quartet, but it was everything they ever could have wanted. It was their own little fairytale in Kansas. It was one of those 'they didn't have much, but they had each other' situations. The happy couple didn't have a big lavish wedding or a whole lot of money, but they had each other and in their young minds, that was all they would ever need.

* * *

After they got married and after they graduated, they moved out of his parent's house and into an apartment that was small, but _theirs_, they got jobs and they started a life together. Everything worked out great for awhile. Happy and in love, they lived what they thought was a perfect life for about a year. But then she started getting sick. Nausea, fatigue, vertigo, loss of appetite, she had it all. He began to worry. A close friend of his mother had died of kidney failure and his wife's symptoms were eerily reminiscent of the early signs of kidney problems.

She, however, remained stubborn. Like that was a shocker. Even if she _was_ dying, she'd still tell him it was just the flu and she would be fine. But when she passed out at work, he took action. He literally had to trick her into going to the doctor and came this close to having to throw her over his shoulder and carry her kicking and screaming into the doctor's office. He figured he could deal with getting the silent treatment from her for a day and a half if she turned out to be fine.

She scowled her way through the tests, threatened bodily harm when they poked and prodded her and once she was out in the parking lot, she punched her husband in the nose.

''You're acting like a _child_, you crazy bitch,'' he snarled out through the blood running into his mouth.

She sneered. ''I don't like doctors, okay?'' She glowered and pushed her sunglasses up onto her head so he could get the full effect of her evil eye. ''Jackass,'' she added in a hiss. ''I'm not going to talk to you for the rest of the day. Just so you know.'' Then she stuck her nose up in the air and turned on her heel.

He smirked after her. ''You look really nice today, Ruby. Did I tell you that?''

She stopped, turned, opened her mouth to speak and then remembered that she wasn't supposed to be talking to him. Yep, he could always count on her vanity. Snapping her jaw shut, she scowled and stalked back to the car, leaving him laughing and wiping blood off his face.

* * *

Despite both of them acting unconcerned, he spent the days worrying about her health and she spent the days trying to tell herself that everything would turn out fine. She was barely twenty four, after all. What kind of twenty four year old had kidney problems?

One night, after an otherwise normal day, he came home, dropped his keys on the front table, took off his jacket, went into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. She was sitting at the kitchen table with glassy eyes and the phone held tightly in her hands. All at once an icy hand gripped his heart. ''Ruby?'' He stood frozen in the doorway, terrified something was horribly wrong with the woman he loved. ''What's wrong?''

She lifted her eyes to him and looked at him like she had forgotten who he was. ''That was the doctor,'' she whispered, her voice hoarse and quiet. ''They...They got my test results back.''

Just like that, a million terrifying scenarios ran through his head, each one worse than the one before and he had to remind himself just to breathe because he loved her like no other and he had long ago forgotten how to live without her. ''And?''

She rose to her feet slowly, making her way over to him to place her hands flat against his chest. ''And,'' she murmured. ''I'm kinda pregnant.'' She smiled one of those smiles that lit up not only her, but everything around her and the look in her eyes reminded him so much of the day he asked her to marry him. ''It looks like we're having a baby, Winchester.''

* * *

That was how their little girl came to be. After the shock (and there was _a lot _of shock) and relief wore off, he lifted her into his arms and twirled her around and her happy tears soaked into his skin. Later, when the news came out at a family gathering, their mothers wept, his father clapped a hand down on his shoulder and Sam called dibs on godfather.

So the fairytale expanded, the family grew and if you were to look up the definition of perfect in the dictionary, it would say _See: The lives of Dean and Ruby Winchester._

* * *

The morning sickness passed after the first trimester and Ruby was lucky enough to spend the rest of her pregnancy feeling wonderful and ecstatic (if not a little tired) while Dean spent the rest of her pregnancy feeling overprotective (more so than usual) and on top of the world.

She was thrilled when she couldn't fit into her clothes anymore, proudly displaying her baby bump under maternity clothes that fit her just right. She was one of those pregnant women that other women hated because pregnancy agreed with her so well. She looked great, she felt great, it was just unfair. It seemed they got everything in life. They were more in love than ever, expecting a baby and everything was going their way.

Her pregnancy was, for lack of a better work, unremarkable. Nothing went wrong, everything progressed just the way it should and they found out the sex as soon as they could. Yes, they were definitely the All American couple. He was handsome, she was gorgeous and their daughter would, no doubt, be absolutely beautiful. By her seventh month, the nursery was done, baby supplies were bought and they were both growing impatient. They wanted their daughter to just hurry up and come into the world so they could shower her with all the love they were saving for her. Everyone who knew them knew that they would be terrific parents. Both were raised well, both had good values and most importantly, they were in love.

Apparently, they weren't the only ones getting a little anxious for the impending birth. Their baby girl must have been a little bit impatient herself, a trait clearly inherited from both Mom and Dad, because she made an appearance a few weeks early, in early December, when the snow fell quietly in the middle of the night and Christmas was coming in a few weeks.

She woke up in the middle of the night, not to pain exactly, but there was definite discomfort. But she was so used to the normal aches and pains of pregnancy, that she wrote it off as normal and tried to go back to sleep. But fate had something else in store for her because instead of sleep coming, something else did. Something else that brought a paralyzing fear that it was too early and what if something was wrong? ''Dean.'' She reached over to shake her husband awake, distress written on her face. ''Dean, wake up.''

''No,'' he whined.

''My water just broke.''

In his half asleep state, a little perturbed at the fact that she was shaking him awake in the middle of the night, he grunted, mumbled a slightly incoherent, ''I'll fix it tomorrow'' and promptly went back to sleep.

Fear was replaced by annoyance for a moment as she shook her head, sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. ''You are_ such _a moron, sometimes.''

''Unappreciated insult, woman.''

''Dean, it's time.''

He groaned, burying his head in his pillow. ''Time for what?'' She blinked and gave him a few minutes to figure it out. As expected, he bolted upright with wide eyes. ''Oh! _Time_ time?''

She nodded, but couldn't bring herself to speak because a contraction seized her body, discomfort taking over. Squeezing her eyes shut, she rubbed her stomach and mentally whispered a _hold on, baby girl_ to her unborn daughter. Since she was scared and shaky, Dean was left to take charge of the situation, even though it wasn't hard to tell he was panicking too.

No.

Wait.

She had a plan. She wanted to be calm when her child came into the world. She wanted to have a nice, serene natural birth that she could speak fondly of in the years to come. Her pregnancy had been so easy so far, was it too much to ask for an easy delivery? Early baby or not, she was going to stick to the freaking plan, damn it. Because it was a _good_ plan.

Really.

* * *

_Yeah._

Her plan fell through somewhere around hour sixteen or so when she quickly realized that natural childbirth without the nice drugs was pure, unadulterated hell. Pain in its purest form. Serenity be damned. In her own words, her plan was fucking stupid. There was _lots_ of moaning,_ lots _of whimpering, a fair amount of crying, a few pleas for the doctors to ''get this kid out of me'', many threats of castration and even a ''fuck off, Doogie!'' directed towards the, admittedly young, doctor who was just trying to do his job. (Although, that last one sure made Dean laugh.)

Yet through it all, Dean remained right by her side. There was no puking, no fainting, no turning white as a sheet. He was very calm. It surprised her in the nicest way. She had been so worried that he wouldn't be able to take it. As it turned out, he took it better than she did. But naturally, as per usual with their relationship, while she was amazed by him, he was amazed by her.

Ruby was a trooper. All those hours of pain and she still remained steadfast in her decision to refuse drugs. He was convinced she was either the strongest woman he had ever known or she was absolutely, positively insane. Not to mention he found the fact that she was actually giving birth to their daughter nothing short of awe inspiring. And since she was the one who was actually doing the whole giving birth thing, he figured the least he could do was stay calm and soothe her as best he could.

The transition stage was by far the worst part of the labor. For both of them. Time quickly lost all meaning and their impatience was growing. She alternated between drifting in and out of sleep and begging the doctor to let her push so she could get this over with. Unlike the women who demanded not to be touched during the final stages of labor, all Ruby wanted to do was to be held. The only position that was remotely comfortable for her was sitting in between Dean's legs and leaning back against him and even then, it was only preferable because of the words Dean was whispering in her ear and the feel of the cool cloth he was mopping across her forehead.

For his part, he didn't seem to mind. He never complained. Even when her fingernails dug into his skin. He gladly indulged her in all the comfort she wanted, remaining cool, calm and collected on the outside. Hey, she was the one who had to do all the hard work. It was the least he could do. He stayed calm and that was more than they could say for her. She was just fed up with the whole thing. She just wanted her baby out so she could hold her in her arms and love her.

Finally, just as the first cracks were starting to appear in Dean's armor, the sound of his wife's moans getting to him and he was pleading, ''Can't you give her anything, Doc? She's in too much pain. Can't you help her?'' she was given the go ahead to start pushing.

Everything started out fine when she started pushing. She seemed to be in better shape and higher spirits than before. But when the doctor announced, after quite awhile, that the head was crowning, she fell apart into a million little pieces. Dean wasn't sure if it was fear, pain or exhaustion, but she just crumpled. Collapsing back onto the bed, she shook her head adamantly, sobbing and clinging to her husband like he was her only life preserver. ''I can't...I can't...''

''Yes, you can,'' he said firmly, pulling her back up into a sitting position.

''I _can't_,'' she insisted stubbornly. ''I can't do it. It's too big.''

''It's _not_ too big.''

''But it's going to tear me open.''

''Ruby, this kid is going to come out one way or another whether you like it or not, do you really want to make things worse by not pushing?''

She paused, swallowing down gulping sobs and letting him smooth damp, stringy hair from her eyes. For a moment, he feared his tone may have been too harsh, but in the end it seemed to get through to her. Nodding slowly, she drew in a few breaths that still shuddered because of her sobs and mumbled out a determined sounding, ''Okay...'' The only thing that told him she did not appreciate his tone was the sudden death grip she had on his hand. She pushed and pushed and when the head finally emerged, she let out a gasping, breathless scream, looking more worn out than ever before. It wasn't hard to tell that all she wanted was for this part to be over and done with.

Voice far softer than before, he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead and whisper praises in her ear. ''You're almost there, baby,'' he whispered soothingly and she tried her hardest to use the sound of his voice as something to hold onto desperately. ''She's almost here.''

''Can you see her?'' She choked out; sweat dripping down her neck and chest.

''Yeah,'' he nodded with a smile and she caught sight of his eyes sparkling in the light of the hospital room. ''Yeah, she's coming, babe. She's got a head full of hair.''

''She does?'' Her eyes lit up and excitement pierced her heart, taking over for the fear. When she started to push again, she made him keep a very close eye on their baby girl to make sure she came out all right.

He did as she told him - ''Okay, we've got a neck, shoulders, chest...'' - but of course, it all ended in a stunned inquiry of, ''Jesus Christ, how the fuck are you doing this, Ruby?'' Which didn't exactly earn him any points.

It took forever and then some and it hurt like hell, but then their baby girl was out and everything was suddenly so worth it. Their girl came out with a healthy pair of lungs, the sound of her loud wails mixing with her mother's sobs and her father's, ''You did it.'' She was perfect from the moment they laid eyes on her. Their little girl.

Ruby cried and Dean cried and their baby cried and there was no doubt in their minds, no doubt at all, that it was the best moment of their entire lives.

* * *

They had no name picked out and Baby Girl Winchester ended up going home with no name. While she scoured baby books looking for a name that was just right and he ended up going to his mother for help, their daughter's name actually came to Ruby in a dream.

In the middle of the night, while they were still getting used to their baby's sleeping patterns and they were both passed out on the couch with the infant sleeping comfortably in her daddy's safe arms, Ruby opened her eyes with her daughter's name on her tongue.

''Oh,'' she whispered. ''Dean.'' She smacked him on the arm, effectively tearing him out of his slumber quite rudely.

''No violence in front of the infant, crazy girl,'' he muttered, opening his eyes.

''Lila Bray.''

''Huh?''

''That's her name,'' she insisted, taking their daughter from his arms. ''Lila Bray Winchester. Is that okay with you?''

He looked at her for a long time in that silent way of his that he got from his mother and then he smiled. ''Lila Bray, huh?'' His eyes strayed to his daughter. ''I think that sounds...just about right.''

* * *

And so Lila Bray Winchester started her life.

* * *

Their daughter was their whole world.

She was their little angel and they doted on her constantly. Since she was the first grandchild, so did his parents, his brother, her mother, her aunt and uncle and any other family friend or relative who happened to meet her. From the moment she was born, they did everything for her. No matter what they did, they always thought of her and how it would affect her life. In many ways, she was what made them grow up.

Soon after her birth, Dean realized his college degree was pretty much wasting away while he helped his father out at the family garage and what he really wanted to do with his life was help people. He wasn't sure why it was something he wanted to do. It wasn't like he had been a do-gooder his entire life. It just felt like...that was what he should do. Ruby was, admittedly, terrified when he told her of his plans. Movies portrayed firefighter's wives as tragic figures who were always waiting and always ending up alone. The thought of losing her husband and having to raise Bray on her own petrified her. But if it was something he really wanted to do then she would support him.

In return, he supported her when she decided to quit her job as an assistant to a photographer (a really icky and downright mean one at that) and become a professional. Eventually, he did become a fireman, reveling in saving people's lives (again; he couldn't really explain it. It just felt _right_) and she became one of the most sought after photographers in Lawrence. They created a nice life together. A hero and an artist with a beautiful baby and a nice house and yes, they had money too.

And Lila Bray? Well, she grew up to be an adorable, sweet little girl who loved both of her parents fiercely. They were a lovely family with great personalities and wonderful careers. What more could they possibly ask for?

* * *

There was nothing in the world Dean and Ruby wouldn't do for their daughter. There was no limit. The sky was the limit when it came to Bray. To the little girl in question, it made her parents seem like superheroes. She learned that at a young age.

When she was five years old, she came within an inch of leaving this mortal coil forever. In other words, she was seconds away from painting the pavement red. She was playing with the neighborhood boys while Daddy worked on his car and Mom was inside working on her costume for her school play the next week. All the neighborhood boys were bigger than her and they were never really keen on letting her play with them, but she was Lila Bray Winchester and she could hold her own just fine. Plus those boys were a little afraid of her mother so one frown from Ruby Winchester and they leapt at the chance to please her. They did have a nasty habit of making things harder for her though just because she was a girl and younger and smaller than them. But while she was a very sweet little girl who couldn't hurt a fly, she knew how to teach those boys a lesson. She was her mother's daughter, after all.

But every once and awhile, they would make an attempt to catch her off guard and one day, they did just that. They startled her by throwing the ball they had been playing catch with too high and too fast and it whizzed right past her head, bouncing off the lawn. ''Oh, you guys suck!'' She cried out before turning and stomping off to get the ball, the sound of their cackling making her cheeks flush red.

As soon as she stepped off the curb and onto the street, it was like an internal alarm went off in her parents brains because her father slid out from underneath his big black car and her mother raced away from the kitchen window, appearing on the front steps. She purposefully ignored their calls to her, darting across the street to retrieve the wayward ball. She was determined to grab that ball and throw it back at the boys so amazingly that it made their jaws drop. But when she did throw it back towards the boys, suddenly their faces had gone pale and Mom and Daddy's shouts had grown much louder and they were running towards her with fear in their eyes. It scared her. They never got scared. Not even when she fell out of the big Oak tree in their backyard and broke her leg.

They were shouting at her to stay where she was, but she once again ignored their wishes because they were frightening her and she just wanted her parents, whether that made her a baby or not. So she stepped out into the middle of the road and as soon as she did, she found out why Mom and Daddy had wanted her to stay put on the other side of the road. There was a car coming towards her at a dangerous speed and she could see that the driver wasn't looking at her, a cell phone in one hand as he bent to retrieve something from the floor of his vehicle.

She should have moved, should have screamed, should have done something. But she found that no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't move and Mom, Daddy and her friends were doing enough yelling and screaming for all of them, but still, the car didn't stop. It didn't even slow down. As she stared at the approaching car, sure she was going to die; the one thing that ran through her mind was how fast her parents could run. She had never seen them run that fast. It paid off in the end because seconds before the car hit her, she felt very familiar hands grab her and yank her out of the way harshly.

Her father took the brunt of the fall that followed, landing hard on his back while she landed harmlessly on top of him. The car sped by and then screeched to a stop, the door opening and a frenzied voice ringing out through the neighborhood. After her parents were satisfied that she wasn't hurt, her Daddy got up to go and yell at the driver of the car, while her Mom held her close and refused to let go. That was when Bray's brain finally caught up, the terror came swooping down and she started to cry. Mom told her friends, ''You boys should go on home now'' and Dad was talking to the driver of the car in a very low, calm voice, but Bray could tell he was spitting mad and she...well, she sat in her mother's arms and listened to the birds chirp. She didn't realize she was shivering, her quiet sobs sounding like thunder to her, until her mother's soft voice broke through her fog and she recognized the song her mother was singing to her as the lullaby her parents used to sing to her when she was a baby.

Still shaken, tears still dripping down her cheeks, Bray allowed herself to calm in safe arms, holding on with all that she had. The gravity of the situation hit her full force and she decided that she would not, ever again, play in the front yard.

* * *

That night, she was always in her parents grasp. They weren't willing to let go of her and she wasn't willing to let go of them. When Daddy put her to bed, she stopped him before he left after kissing her goodnight. ''Daddy?''

''Yes, Lila Bray?''

''Thank you for saving me.''

There was a long pause and then Daddy sighed and laughed a choked sounding laugh that seemed to get caught in his throat. ''Oh, sugar,'' he murmured, coarse hands brushing hair away from her face. ''Your mother and I...we'll never let anything bad happen to you. You know that, don't you?''

''Yes, Daddy. I know.''

He kissed her forehead again and she could feel him smile in the dark. ''Go to sleep, darlin'. It's been a long day.''

''I love you, Daddy.''

''I love you too, Lila Bray.''

''More than the moon?''

''More than the moon and the sun and the stars in the sky.''

''Wow. That's an awful lot.''

''Not enough.''

* * *

To her, the fact that they did that for her, the fact that they saved her and rather than getting angry, made sure she was okay, made them superheroes. It made them better than anyone else in the whole world. Of course, years later, she'd learn what they did was no different than what any other parent would do. When your child is in danger, you _react_. It's instinct. But when she was five, it made them seem like they were made out of magic.

She was their world. There was no denying that. Even she knew she was their world.

But they were hers.

* * *

Another, less dramatic, example of how her parents would do anything for her, is how she got everything she asked for. She was spoiled. It was the truth. She was spoiled rotten. But she still remained undeniably sweet. She always had a smile ready for whoever crossed her path and she was absolutely a-okay with sharing. But then...

...Then things changed. Things changed and suddenly she couldn't get everything she wanted. Suddenly people were saying _no_ to her (oh, the_ horror_) and then all of a sudden, people got to see a whole different side of Lila Bray Winchester. The ugly, jealous side. Why did this side suddenly appear, you ask? Well, because Bray gained something in her life. Something she did not ask for and something that could not be returned.

A sibling.

* * *

Dean and Ruby Winchester were great parents. And more importantly, they truly _enjoyed_ being parents. So having a second child just seemed like the natural progression of things. Plus, she had genuinely liked being pregnant and everything had been so easy and they were still young, so what was the harm in having a new baby?

When they decided to try for another baby, they never dreamed it would end up being one of the biggest challenges of their lives. It took them over six months, two miscarriages and three false pregnancies before the real deal finally happened. The pregnancy was not smooth sailing, however. It was not at all like how it was with Bray. It became riddled with complications right from the get go. She developed awful, terrible, monstrous morning sickness that had her losing more weight than she was gaining and when it got so bad that she couldn't manage to keep anything down and the weakness had her bedridden, Dean finally gathered her up and took her to the hospital where she was diagnosed with severe Hyperemesis Gravidarum and was eventually sent home after a day or two of observation with medication to control the vomiting that had taken over her life.

Even that was not the end of the problems. Cramps and bleeding in her fourth month led to a threatened miscarriage that had her on bed rest for a month and a half, which she hated with a passion because it made her feel useless. Something on the ultrasound had her doctor believing that their baby was sickly, possibly inflicted with Down's Syndrome and when he 'recommended' terminating the pregnancy, they wasted no time in switching doctors, (although, they might have been asked to leave anyway considering as soon as the word 'termination' came out of Dr. Asswipe's mouth, Dean threw a chart across the room and had him pinned up against the wall with fire in his eyes, deterred only by his wife's sharp, ''Dean!'' and the sight of her red rimmed eyes) and decided that even if their baby did have Down's Syndrome, it wouldn't change a thing. Their new doctor, one with a much better bedside manner, told them that not only did their baby not have Down's Syndrome, but he was a perfectly healthy, albeit slightly underweight, baby boy.

It returned hope to the young family and suddenly their moods were much brighter. Her pregnancy was still being classified as high risk, but things were looking up. Even Bray seemed happier. She had always been excited to be a big sister, save for the bursts of jealousy that seemed to happen now and then and showed a nasty side of their sweet little angel, it was the journey there that she didn't like. It frightened her how weak and sick her regularly tough as nails mother was. But once they got the good news, the happiness was contagious.

The family's euphoria over the positive diagnosis was unfortunately short lived when Ruby suffered from a ruptured placenta and went into active labor at only twenty seven weeks along, endangering not only child's life, but her life as well. It was horrifying for Dean and Bray. Dean, for one, was sure that the image of his wife, writhing in pain and begging the doctors to save her baby would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Their son was born two months premature and they were told he wouldn't make it through the night. It was devastating news for the family who had waited so long for this perfect little boy to join their perfect little family. If the nurses and doctors thought telling them was difficult, they had no idea what it was like for Dean when he had to tell his six year old daughter that the little brother she had been anxiously waiting for for so long wasn't coming home. All Bray ever wanted was a little brother. She wanted so badly to be a big sibling just like Daddy was, but it was looking more and more like she would never get that chance.

So with heavy hearts and never ending tears (while Ruby's tears were nonstop and she made no effort to stop them from raining down her cheeks, Dean made a valiant attempt to stay strong so he could hold Ruby up, only to crumple at the sight of his tiny, helpless son and then it was quite literally her holding him up) they prepared themselves for the worst.

They named him Connor because every little boy needed a name and then they did the one thing that haunted all parents' nightmares. They waited for their child to die.

He didn't.

Against all odds, the small, fragile baby boy made it through the night. And the one after that and the one after that and the one after that and so on. It was not the end of the bumpy road, of course. Just a few weeks later, they were told Connor's heart rate was dropping and it looked like the sick little boy wasn't going to make it. The grave situation was persisted and soon, his frail body was unhooked from the scary looking machines that looked like mean little monsters and placed in Ruby's arms for what was expected to be his last breath. Still, as his mother and father cried over him, the baby boy weathered the storm and again, beat all odds when he started breathing on his own in his mother's arms.

They were told he would have permanent defects, permanent health issues, developmental issues, even social issues and that was only if he lived. But they took him home three and a half months later and he grew up to be a very healthy little boy with only minor form of asthma to show for his harrowing journey into the world.

While Bray was their little angel, Connor was, without a doubt, their little miracle. He survived when the world was against him. He hung on when doctors had given up on him. And that was the sign of a true Winchester.

* * *

When Bray first met her baby brother, he was still in the hospital and there was still worry radiating off of her parents in waves. He was so tiny and fragile looking that she honestly believed he would break into pieces if she touched him. And the wires all around him were scary. She shrank back into her father's arms when she saw them. But she could see things about him, even trapped in that tiny little cage of his, that no one else could see. Even if his eyes were closed, she knew he had Daddy's eyes and he was going to have Mom's smile that lit up everything close by like a Christmas tree. He was going to grow up to be handsome. She could tell.

All she was looking at was a very sick child. But all she could see was her brother.

She wanted to play with him, teach him everything she knew, protect him from all the bad things because he was so small and she was his big sister so it was her job to look after him. She waited a real long time for him to be born and then she waited some more and just when she was starting to think she would never get the chance to play with her little brother, her mom and dad came home with that little baby safe in her..._their_ daddy's arms.

From the moment she was allowed to hold him for the first time and he opened green eyes and looked right at her, he had her.

* * *

Proving herself to be a true Winchester in every possible way, Bray became Connor's unofficial bodyguard as he grew up Winchester style. He was small for his age, he had asthma and he was her little brother so nobody was ever going to touch him while she was around.

Their parents couldn't be happier that their children had such an unbreakable bond. It was not hard for Dean to look at his children and see himself and Sam. Perfect was still the word for their lives. The years passed, time flew by and their peaceful family life was just right. It was everything they could ever want. Their careers flourished, their children grew up healthy and happy and the rest of their family thrived.

His brother married a pretty young blonde named Jess who had been part of the family for years and the similarities between the Winchester brothers wives were not lost on anyone. Instead of being just a little bit creepy, it became a running joke in the family. Every Winchester man seemed destined to marry a gorgeous and feisty blue eyed blonde with a stunning personality to match. From Mary to Ruby and finally to Jess.

Dean and Ruby were just waiting for the day when Connor would come home with a tough, pretty little blonde. (Actually, the woman Connor would end up spending the rest of his life with would end up being a mousy little delicate thing with brown hair and big eyes who was so shy and quiet it was hard to tell if she was there sometimes. But that's okay because Connor would end up being loud enough for the both of them.)

Time passed and perfection continued on uninterrupted.

Until...

Until that fateful rainy day when Bray was eleven and Connor was six and perfect became nothing but memories and photographs of life before...

...Before...

..._IT._

**end part one**

* * *

**AN: So, there we go. There's the first part of 'what if Bray lived a totally and completely normal life with two normal parents and no monsters.' As you can see, that doesn't mean her life was all happy. Now, I feel I should mention that just because I have this limited access means nothing for Queen of Hearts. It is still on hiatus until at least the end of August. I don't even know if I'll be able to get the rest of this story up until then. But...what can I say? I missed you!**

**The title of the first chapter came from the poem **_**Maenad**_** by Sylvia Plath.**


	2. I saw death in the bare trees

_AN: So here's part two. It has THE EVENT in it. Meaning, of course, it has the major twist of the story in it. Because what is a Becks Rylynn story without a little angst, right? I have to say I'm getting this chapter up way sooner then I thought I would._

_Title is from Sylvia Plath's radio play 'Three Women.' It's a beautiful piece of art and I urge you all to look it up and read it._

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

**Tell me my name**

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

**Part Two  
**_''I saw death in the bare trees''_

* * *

The day would forever haunt the Winchester children, Bray especially, and to this very day, the eldest of Dean and Ruby's kids can still tell you every second of that day in perfect detail. The memory is forever burned into her brain, a scattered mess of what used to be.

It was a Friday and it was her third day home sick with the flu, so her head was feeling stuffed up, she felt overwhelmingly tired and her stomach was doing unpleasant flip flops. Friday night was Mom and Dad's date night so she was going to spend the night with Uncle Sammy and Auntie Jess and her plan was to totally use her cuteness and her illness to get herself some chocolate. Her day had started out okay, but had quickly gotten bad. Connor had spent the afternoon at Uncle Sammy's after school because Mom was paranoid about him getting sick, so she had no one to play with and she had eaten so many popsicles that she got a stomachache and threw up. Because of the vibrant color of the popsicles, it was red and Mom had panicked, coming _this _close to dialing 911 thinking it was blood. Bray had watched her mother panic for awhile before she had sheepishly admitted that in addition to the two cherry popsicles she had been given to soothe her sore throat, she had snuck five more.

Mom was _not_ amused.

On top of it all, it had rained all day long; thunder booming, lightning streaking across the gray sky, wind blowing the trees until they looked like monsters out the window and Bray had to shut the curtains. Because of the deafening thunder, she couldn't get to sleep so she was not only sick, but cranky. And when she finally did fall into a restless slumber, she had terrifying dreams of shattered glass and blood dripping from a lifeless hand with painted black nails and smoke billowing from under the hood of a car and she woke up feeling confused, scared and with a breathtaking feeling of dread in her stomach. It was so bad it made her throw up again.

She spent the day cooped up in Mom and Dad's bedroom, like she always did when she was sick and Mom spent the day in and out of the room, alternating between cleaning the house to get it ready for the dinner party they were supposed to have the next day, dealing with a fussy client (all that bridezilla bitch probably felt when she heard the news about what happened was inconvenience) on the phone whose wedding pictures she was supposed to be taking that week and spending time with her sick daughter.

The feeling of foreboding remained throughout the day, but she did nothing about it, pushing it to the back of her mind and telling herself it was nothing. It was just the storm that was making her feel out of sorts.

When Dad came home, he sat with her and made her laugh 'till she coughed with his cheesy jokes and magic tricks and he read her books and...

It was an afternoon that could not be erased from her memory and not because it was a super duper afternoon or anything but because it was the _last_ afternoon. In later years, she would grow to hate herself for the way she handled those last moments because...because she_ knew_. She knew something bad was going to happen, she_ felt _it, she felt that dread creeping into her body and she didn't do enough to stop them. Worse than that, for the rest of her life, a great fear would gnaw at her, chewing at her insides cruelly. The fear that Connor resented her for that day because while she got to spend their precious last hours, last minutes, last seconds with them, he did not. All he had was their empty promise of ''we'll see you soon, honey.''

The anxiety sat in her stomach like a rock and even though she was doing her best to ignore it, it persisted. She forced her parents to watch a movie with her in an effort to keep them from leaving, but they only got halfway through the movie before Mom said it was time to get ready to go.

''But, Ruby,'' Dad wailed overdramatically. ''Now we'll never know if they find Nemo!''

Despite the odd and uncomfortable trepidation in her body, Bray had to laugh.

''You've seen this movie a thousand times with the kids, Dean,'' Mom said, hands on her hips, trying to look stern. She was smiling as she said it, though, and she didn't look very angry. ''You know the ending by heart.''

''That Dory gets me every damn time,'' Dad grumbled, rising to his feet.

''Are you guys gonna get dressed up?'' Bray asked, pushing herself onto her knees. ''Usually on date night, you get all dressed up and go to dinner or dancing or whatever.'' Her eyes shone with excitement and she bounced on the bed. She may have been getting older, but she still loved watching her Mom get all dolled up in shimmery dresses and shiny high heels and soft, silky curls. It made her mother look like a Princess.

''Nope,'' Mom said. ''We're having a casual date night tonight.''

''What are you gonna do?''

''I'll explain it to you in a few years.''

''Besides,'' Dad tactfully switched subjects and pulled Mom close to him with that familiar goofy grin of his. ''We can dance just as well at home.'' And then he twirled Mom around and made her smile that big, blinding, brilliant smile of hers that she reserved just for him. It was another image that would be stuck with her until the day she died. The image of her parents dancing, both blissfully unaware of the catastrophe that awaited them on the slippery roads. Her father ended the dance by dipping her mother over and kissing her softly on the lips. Bray thought nothing of it, really, because they were always kissing or hugging or touching, but later she'd remember the looks on her parent's faces when they pulled away from each other and she'd wonder if they felt the dread too. If they somehow knew that something was going to happen to them. If they had always known they were going to die young.

She felt tired and her head felt like it was full of wool and she couldn't help but be a little whiny, dread or no dread, as they got ready to leave. ''Why can't I stay with you?'' She moaned pitifully. ''I'm sick and Daddy always makes me tomato rice soup when I'm sick.''

''Uncle Sam can make tomato rice soup just as well, baby girl,'' Mom said patiently. ''Better, in fact. There's less burning involved.''

''I do that on purpose,'' Dad said indignantly. ''It gives it more flavor.''

''Besides, sweetie,'' Mom continued, ignoring Dad's protest. ''Don't you want to see your brother? You haven't seen him all day. And your cousin hasn't seen you in awhile either. I'll bet she misses you.''

''Cara's a _baby_,'' Bray grumbled, picking at her pajamas. ''She doesn't care about me.''

''Aw, come on, sugar,'' Dad said, still smiling as he hauled her to her feet on the bed so she was eye level with him. ''Don't be such a grouch. You'll have fun.''

''But I want to stay with you!'' She wailed, throwing herself at her father, arms around his neck, legs around his waist.

Mom hesitated briefly, biting her lip. ''Dean, maybe she should stay home. I don't want Connor and Cara catching her cold.''

''Ruby, she's not contagious anymore. And she's only cranky because she's T-I-R-E-D.''

''I know how to spell tired, Dad! I'm eleven!''

''Well, you're acting like a five year old.'' She let her father put her down on the ground and pouted for a good minute and a half, but didn't say a word because they seemed to have made up their minds and she was well aware that when they made up their minds, there was no changing them. ''Look, we'll make it up to you,'' Dad said gently, ruffling her hair affectionately. ''We'll go out for ice cream this weekend.''

She brightened slightly, uncrossing her arms and un-pouting her lips. ''At the good place?''

''No, at the crappy place with the runny ice cream._ Yes_, the good place. Do I look cheap to you? Not a word, Ruby!''

Bray giggled, in a profoundly better mood now that the promise of ice cream had been made and the sense of dread had been severely hindered by her parent's carefree attitudes. If they weren't worried, why should she be? So she calmed down, told herself that sleeping over at Uncle Sammy's would be fun and helped Mom pack her overnight bag, making sure she didn't forget her stuffed bunny that she still slept with every night.

Mom made a big fuss of checking Bray's fever to make sure it had gone down enough before they left, which Dad teased her about, and then Dad wrapped her in his jacket, still in her pajamas and carried her out to the car. It was still cold out, the wind blew harshly through the trees and lifted her hair away from her eyes and she still managed to shiver even though she was wrapped in Dad's big jacket. ''Aw,'' she muttered as Dad opened the car door. ''Can't we take your car?'' She asked, sighing as her father placed her in the back of the boring SUV.

''We'll take it when we go to get ice cream,'' he said with a smile, buckling her in.

She sighed again. Sitting in the backseat, she listened to the wind howl and watched out the window as Mom locked the front door. She watched her parents talk for a moment, but looked away when they looked her way. It came back full force as she sat there alone in the darkened backseat. The dread that made her heart beat erratically. She didn't know why, she didn't understand, but for some reason, something was telling her not to go. Something was telling her that if she let her Mom and Dad get in the car, something terrible was going to happen. However, in her frightened eleven year old mind, she tried to ignore it, telling herself the spooky weather was just making her jumpy for no reason. Her eyes locked on her Mom and Dad just as they pulled away from a kiss and they must have seen the fear in her eyes when they looked at her because they both frowned worried little frowns.

''You all right, sugar?'' Dad asked, climbing into the driver's seat. ''You look like you saw a ghost.''

''Are you not feeling well, baby girl?'' Mom asked, shutting the passenger side door.

Bray opened her mouth to speak, but froze, eyes widening in horror when she caught sight of her mother's hand. Black nail polish shined on Mom's fingernails and Bray had horrible flashbacks to her nightmare. Swallowing hard, she debated whether or not she should say anything. Would they even believe her? Probably not. ''Do I have to go?'' She whispered at last. ''Can't we stay home?''

Mom and Dad looked at each other and it wasn't hard to tell their patience with her was wearing thin. ''We at least need to pick up your brother,'' Mom said calmly. ''We'll see how you feel when we get there. How does that sound?''

Drawing in a deep breath, Bray nodded and relaxed back against the seats, pulling her Dad's jacket tighter around her body. ''Okay,'' she said, voice barely audible.

The sound of the car starting up terrified her to no end and she had to force herself not to clap her hands over her ears, trying to look perfectly all right because she could tell her father was looking at her in the rearview mirror. Her heart beat raced unpleasantly when the car backed out of the driveway and made her think, for a moment, that it was going to be right out of her chest.

Uncle Sammy's house was ten minutes away from home on a good day. It wasn't a good day. It was windy and drizzling and the roads were wet. Not to mention, she was in the backseat. Dad always drove just a little bit slower when his kids were in the backseat. ''Precious cargo,'' he had always said with a wink. That night, a normally ten minute journey would have doubled and become a twenty minute drive.

They barely made it five.

And those five minutes are forever engrained in her memory. Sure, she can remember every detail of the entire day easily and the image of her father twirling her mother is an image that reminds her of happier times, but those five minutes are different. There are times when she can push the rest of the day away and pretend it never happened but those five minutes don't go away. She sees it when she closes her eyes. In startling detail, even eleven years later. She can still feel the plush seats underneath her, still feel Dad's jacket wrapped around her tightly (she remembers it smelled like him), and she can still hear their laughter clear as a bell; it rings through her head like a gunshot.

Mom was in the front talking to Dad about the family dinner party and both seemed completely unconcerned and carefree. The conversation steered away from the party quickly and onto the subject of their children and she tried to use the sound of their laughter as a lullaby. She closed her eyes and listened to them laugh, replaying it over and over again long after they had silenced. With her eyes closed, she didn't see what was coming until it was too late.

There was a scream (another sound that would echo in her mind for the rest of her life) and she opened her eyes. Before she could even scream, there was the earsplitting sound of a crash, breaking glass and screeching tires, and then something hard hit her head and she was out.

* * *

For the rest of her life, she would switch back and forth from being happy that she woke up and wishing she hadn't woken up at all.

She woke up to pain. Her left arm hurt, her cheek hurt, her head hurt, her chest hurt, a nasty bruise from the seatbelt forming (thanks to her father's thick jacket, she was lucky that it was just a bruise and not a broken rib) and terror swept down upon her in waves when she saw the shattered glass from the window. She whimpered and reached up to touch her cheek, hand coming away wet with tears (as she'd learn later, it was not so much tears as it was blood, but she was full of fear and adrenaline and while her cheek did hurt, it didn't hurt as much as it should have). When she reached up to touch her cheek again, a familiar voice stopped her with a commanding, ''_Don't _touch it'' and that was when the fog in her brain cleared and she remembered her parents.

Eyes widening, she swiveled her gaze to her father and her eyes burned painfully. ''Daddy,'' she choked out. ''Did we...Did we crash?''

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if he were searching for an answer that wouldn't frighten her, before he decided on the truth and nodded slowly. ''Yes, Lila Bray. We did.''

A cry escaped her lips and her shaking fingers worked to undo her seatbelt quickly and before she could move towards her father, something else caught her eye. ''Mom,'' she breathed out, pushing herself forwards. Her mother's arm was thrown out carelessly, her wedding ring catching in the moonlight and blood dripped from her painted black nails. Just like in her dream. ''Mommy...''

She moved as if to shake Mom awake, but strong arms suddenly grabbed her around the waist with an urgent and desperate cry of, ''No!'' and a startled shriek escaped her lips. ''Don't look at Mom,'' Dad ordered firmly. ''Look at me.''

''But...But I want Mommy!''

''I know,'' he whispered, his grip becoming gentler.

She watched the emotions pass through his eyes like stars and when she saw the pure, raw anguish, she knew it was bad. She turned just enough to see the blood dripping from Mom's fingertips and her gaze slowly traveled up the lifeless arm, but she looked away sharply before she could catch sight of what her Mom's face looked like. The sight and smell of the blood made her stomach churn, but instead of throwing up, she started to cry. ''Is she - ''

''She's _sleeping,_'' Dad said. ''But she'll be fine.'' But his voice was so desperate and filled with grief and his eyes were tortured and filled with grief that she could see right through him and his white lie. She wondered who he was trying to convince. Her or himself?

''Are you hurt?'' His voice was tight and uncontrolled, coming so close to sounding terrified.

She swallowed. ''My-My arm. Daddy,'' she broke off in a round of sobs, clutching her arm and looking into his pained eyes. ''I want to go home.''

''We will,'' Dad soothed. ''We're...We're gonna go to the hospital first and get your arm checked out and have the...have the doctors make sure your mom's...okay.'' His voice cracked on the 'okay' and that was when she pretty much knew Mom was not okay. Not at all. ''And then we can go home,'' he whispered hoarsely. He shook his head and tore his eyes away from the sight over Bray's shoulder. ''Can I see your arm?''

She chose to push the thoughts of Mom out of her mind, choosing to believe that her mother was only unconscious and would be fine. Slipping gingerly out of her father's jacket, she let her Dad look at her arm, stifling a pained cry when his gentle fingers touched the sore limb.

''It's not broken,'' he said, trying to smile, no doubt just for her. ''That's good.''

''I'm scared,'' she cried out, tears stinging her wounded cheek terribly. ''Daddy, I don't want to die.''

''You're _not_...You are _not _going to die,'' he practically snarled out. ''I won't let you.'' Something about the intensity of the statement scared her and he must have realized that because he softened almost instantly. ''Hey,'' he murmured. ''Listen, everything's going to be fine. I called help and they're comin'. Just...Just talk to me. Talk to me, okay?''

''Why?''

''Just don't let me fall asleep.''

Frowning, she pulled away from her seemingly uninjured father and looked him up and down, her eyes falling on something truly terrifying. ''Oh...Daddy...Daddy, that's a lot of blood.''

He smiled at her, somewhat weakly, and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. ''I'll be fine. I'm Batman, remember?''

Despite his attempt to pass the situation off as no big deal, hysterical screams rose in her throat and she wanted to let them out so badly, but she didn't. ''Don't fall asleep,'' she blubbered, sobs escaping one after another, tears blurring her vision. ''Don't fall asleep, okay? I don't want to be alone.''

''I don't want to be alone either,'' he agreed. ''So you stay awake too, okay? Tell me a story, sugar, and I won't fall asleep. If I start to, just hit me as hard as you can. Understand?''

Still clutching at her hurt arm, she shook her head wildly. ''I don't want to hit you.''

''Come on,'' he tried to chuckle, but it ended in a wet sounding cough that made her tremble. ''Most kids would love a chance to hit their dads without punishment.''

''I don't want to hurt you.''

''You won't. I promise.''

She sniffled and wiped her nose, unknowingly smearing blood across her face. ''What...What do you want me to talk about?''

''Anything.''

In the end, she told him a story about a Princess named Lila and the King and Queen who were her parents and in the story, their carriage crashed but everybody got out okay and they all lived happily ever after. Dad still made jokes and tried to comfort her but there was an underlying edge to his voice that she couldn't put her finger on.

Years later, she would learn that while he sat there, unable to move, with blood filling his lungs, insides becoming outsides and death coming closer, he had been in an extraordinary amount of pain that he had hid from her, pretending he was fine and it wasn't even that bad because he didn't want to scare her. And if she had turned around and gotten the full view of her mother's body, she would have seen the grotesque head injury that had ultimately led to her death.

There were things Bray would never know about the crash and her parents final moments, however. She would never know of the events that transpired before she woke up in the backseat, she would never know what her parent's last thoughts were and she would never know that her mother had not actually been killed instantly from her injuries. In fact, Ruby spent her last moments giving Dean specific instructions on how to raise their kids after she was gone. Instructions that he would, sadly, never have the chance to carry out. She spent her last seconds remembering their wedding day and how much she loved him just as much as she had back then. No, Bray would never know of her mother's last moments or last words. (Her last words had quite simply been, ''I love you'' a sentiment that was most likely directed towards her husband, but also could have been meant for her children.)

And, for that matter, while she would later learn that her father did, in fact, awake later in the hospital before he went into cardiac arrest due to his injuries, she would never know his last words either. (Groggy, in pain and fighting a losing battle with his injuries, his one concern was the little girl who had tried so hard to keep him with her. ''Where's my daughter? Is she okay?'')

She tried to tell Dad another story, sitting in between the front seats, her fingers clutching at her father's clothing, her mother's limp hand brushing against her back, but her brain was growing increasingly fuzzy and her cheek was kind of going numb and her arm really, really hurt.

His voice got softer, he spoke slower, almost like it was becoming difficult just to form words, and his hands, pressed to his bleeding wound, shook terribly. And Mom? Mom was completely still and silent. No rattling breaths, no cries of pain, she was just...quiet. Bray couldn't even hear her breathing, though she still firmly believed that she was. Still, she soldiered on, keeping her word and shaking Dad every time he started to fall asleep. She was trying so hard to stay hopeful. If she kept Dad awake everything would be fine. Help would come and save them. But time passed and eventually Dad's sentences became choppy and his speech slurred and she knew something bad was going to happen.

When he groaned and made an attempt to shift in his seat, she swallowed hard. ''D-Daddy, are you...are you okay?'' It dawned on her that it was a stupid question considering he was most definitely _not_ okay, but she asked anyway.

''I'm...'' He trailed off, eyes glossy and confused like he couldn't remember the word he was looking for. ''...Fine.'' But then he coughed, violent, body shaking coughs and when he pulled it hand away from his mouth it shone red in the moonlight and blood trickled out of the side of his mouth. ''How...How are you?''

She sniffled and did her best not to cry. ''I'm okay,'' she said, voice wavering. ''Hey,'' she squeezed his hand as tight as she could when she saw his eyelids droop. ''You said you would take me for ice cream this weekend, remember?''

He nodded slowly. ''Right...Ice cream. Sam...He knows what you...what you like, right?''

''He doesn't need to know,'' she said adamantly. ''_You're_ taking me. And you said you were going to teach Connor to work on your car this summer. He's so excited. He wants to be just like you.''

''Oh.'' The corners of his lips curved into a slow, exhausted looking half smile. ''Yeah. ...Sam...Sam doesn't know...anything about cars.''

''Right,'' she nodded. ''That's why Connor needs you.''

''...I taught you. You...You can teach him. You can...You can take care...take care of your brother...can't you?''

''Daddy, _stop it_.''

''Your mom...Your mom...she...doesn't like...being alone either.''

''I don't want you to go with Mom! I want you to stay here with me! Stay away from Mom! _Dad!_ Do you...Do you see her?''

''...I always see her.''

''Well, don't go with her!''

He didn't listen to her. Or he couldn't. Either way, his voice got even softer and she could tell that the exhaustion was taking over him and whatever was keeping him awake, adrenaline, her, whatever, was wearing off. ''You'll be good,'' he murmured, voice thick and trembling. She tried to tune it out because he didn't sound like her Dad anymore, but she couldn't. ''Won't you, Lila Bray?''

And there it was. She was 'Baby Girl' to Mom, 'Babe' to Uncle Sammy, 'Bug' to Grandpa, 'Lila' to Grandma, 'Lilac' to Connor and 'Bray' to everyone else. But to Dad...To Daddy, she was always, always, _always_ 'Lila Bray.' And when he whispered her name in the cold night air, with moonlight shining and wind howling, she couldn't shake the feeling that it would be the last time she ever heard him say her name.

It seemed like days passed before she finally heard the mournful wails of the sirens carried in by the wind. ''Daddy,'' she spoke anxiously, eyes lighting up with renewed hope. ''I think I hear them coming.'' She got no answer, the only sound the sound of the sirens coming closer and closer. Dad's hand, which she had gripped tightly, fell limply away. She turned slowly, with trembling lips and a racing heart. ''Daddy?''

Dad didn't speak.

The sirens cried out through the night.

''Daddy?''

**end part two**

* * *

**AN: Uh...yeah. I killed 'em. Are you mad at me?**

**I figure I should mention that I now have no idea when I'm going to have the chance to get internet access again, so basically what I'm trying to say is I am so sorry if I can't respond to any reviews I may get. I will eventually. Just probably not right away. I'm just amazed that I was able to get this posted.**


	3. The day you died I went into the dirt

_AN: Well, guess what? I'm finally home. Holy crap, has it ever been a long summer. Anyway, I figure I should get back to work on stories so here we go with another chapter of this story that I have been neglecting. After this story is finished, I have like a bunch of other crap I need to worl on, including and not limited to my annual Halloween story and an INCREDIBLY angsty D/R inspired by Love the Way You Lie by Rihanna and Eminem (because that song reminds me of them). Also, of course Queen of Hearts and Where the Wild Things Are._

_Speaking of Queen of Hearts...The new chapter (or the new ''season'') will begin September 1st. The next chapter is all written and everything, I'm just waiting for September 1st because...well, because I feel like it. But enough of my rambling (oh, you know you love it) and on with the story!_

_Oh, and the title of this chapter is from 'Electra on Azalea Path' by Sylvia Plath._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything.

* * *

**Tell me my name**

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

**Part Three  
**_''The day you died I went into the dirt''_

* * *

Accidents happen.

People can be stupid and mistakes can be made, but sometimes accidents just _happen._ Sometimes there is no one to blame. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason. Sometimes there is only fate to blame. That was what Adam Crowell had been telling himself his entire career. He had been a paramedic for ten years when he came across what is now known as The Winchester Accident. (The only reason it became famous is because of the events that followed the crash.)

''You need to learn to disentangle your life from the victim's.'' That was the advice he had been given on his first day. It was what a friend had told him after he had been unable to save a young cyclist who had been hit by a car and he broke down in the locker room after his shift ended. He had repeated those words over and over in his head whenever he had come across a particularly tragic or disturbing accident scene. But every once and awhile, something would come along that simply forced the emotion out of him, squeezed his heart until he bled right along with the victim.

The car crash on that rainy night had been one of them.

He knew the Winchesters. His son went to school with their daughter. Actually, Alex had a tendency to pick on the poor girl and Adam had been in many meetings in the principal's office with the incredibly charming Mr. and Mrs. Winchester sitting next to him. Plus, since he was a paramedic and Dean a firefighter, their paths tended to cross an awful lot. Especially in a small town like Lawrence. His wife, even though she ran hot and cold with him all the damn time (his ex-wife now), always softened when he brought home one of Ruby's photographs which Robyn had always coveted deeply. (Ruby was talented, she was. She took magnificent pictures of all kinds of things. But Robyn had always preferred the, let's face it, kind of boring pictures of flowers that Ruby mainly did to please the number of old people who were regulars and didn't that show something about Robyn's taste?) The bottom line was the Winchester's were nice people. They were happy, they had a nice family and they were more in love with each other than Adam could ever hope to be with Robyn. (Actually, truth be told the sole reason for his marriage to her had been their teenage daughter Aubrey and later on, Alex.)

The Winchester family led a charmed life, that was for sure.

Until the crash that took it all away, that is.

As one of the first responding paramedics on the scene, Adam had gotten there just in time to witness the strong, burly men of the Lawrence Fire Department realize, with horror, that it was one of their own trapped and bleeding to death in the mangled wreckage of the vehicle. He watched them use the Jaws of Life to free the bodies and he was the one who carefully took Ruby Winchester's broken body from a fireman who looked like he was struggling to keep his composure. He was the one to pronounce the young mother dead at the scene, something awful developing in the pit of his stomach.

_Cause of death: Severe head trauma and blood loss._

The crimson liquid stained her clothes and dripped off her fingers.

Of course, being there and being that close to the car, he had glanced in the backseat and his eyes had fallen on a backpack that was pink and sparkly and there was only one person who could have owned it in the Winchester family. Eyes widening, he whirled around, but before he could yell out for the girl, he caught sight of her struggling form, fighting off the grip of one of her father's friends.

''Hey!'' Her small voice cracked as she got loose from the man's grasp and darted forwards. ''That's my mom!'' Wind blew her blood streaked blond hair from her face and blood shone on her skin from a nasty gash in her cheek. ''That's my _mother_! Mom! Mommy!'' She screamed as the paramedic beside Adam began to zip up the black body bag containing the girl's mother, without an ounce of sympathy in his eyes. Adam frowned at his co-worker and took a step towards the distressed and traumatized little girl. ''What are you doing to her?'' She demanded. ''Where are you taking her?''

It tugged at his heartstrings more than a little. Here was a little girl the same age as his son and she was hurt and scared and confused and she had just watched her mother, if not her father as well, die. It was a heartbreaking sight that clawed at him from the inside. The girl was still screaming for her mother as she raced towards the stretcher holding all that was left of her mother, dodging people who tried to stop her. However, the frantic shouts of the firefighters and other paramedics yelling off the vast list of her father's injuries as they pulled him from the car, stopped her in her tracks.

She looked in between her mother, who almost looked like she was just sleeping, but was long gone, and her father, whose blood coated his hands and shirts but was still breathing, and the poor child looked so lost and confused that it tore him up inside. The skies opened up and the light drizzle got heavier once again, rain falling down on the rescue crew as they worked and the wind blew violently.

The girl made a choice, giving her mother one last look before she turned and ran towards her father.

Adam wasted no time in running after her this time. She was just a little girl; there was no reason why she should have to see what was happening to her dad. Besides, judging from the blood and the way she was favoring her arm, she was injured and needed medical attention too and she _had_ to be his top priority. Her father was in good hands, but he needed to think of her. She screamed bloody murder when he caught her before she could reach her dad and she squirmed fruitlessly in his strong arms, yelling at him to unhand her. No, really. The first thing she yelled was, ''Unhand me, you idiot!'' No doubt her mother speaking. ''Let me go! Let me go, I have to be with my dad!''

''They're doing all they can for your dad!'' Adam tried to soothe her over her cries. ''Right now all you can do is let them work on him.''

''But you don't understand!'' She wailed as he placed her on the back of another ambulance, his eyes focused on the deep gash on her cheek. ''He doesn't want to be alone! I promised...I promised I wouldn't leave him alone!'' Her eyes, filled with tears and rimmed with red, overflowed in a river of salty tears. ''I let him fall asleep,'' she sobbed. ''I let him fall asleep. I already failed that. But I said...I said I wouldn't leave him alone.'' She broke off in a round of gulping sobs that shook her whole body and she moved to bury her face in her hands, but he stopped her, not wanting to aggravate her wound.

The father in him rose inside of his throat at the sight of her tears and words bubbled in his throat. ''Honey, you have to let them do their jobs. They need to work on him so they can save him. You'd only be in the way.''

She sniffled. ''They'll save him? Do you think so?''

Adam didn't answer for a moment, pretending to be busy tending to her injuries when really he just didn't know what to say to that. ''I think they'll do everything they can to bring him home to you,'' he finally said carefully.

''What about...What about my mom?''

He fell silent. How do you tell an eleven year old girl that her mother isn't coming home? His silence, however, seemed to be all the answer she needed because her tear filled gaze moved down to her lap briefly and she sniffled loudly, shaking her head.

''She's dead,'' she said hollowly and when she looked back up at him, her eyes were empty. ''Isn't she?''

The look in her eyes would be something that would stay with him forever. She looked like a pale little ghost of a colorful little girl who used to have it all. The world was cruel. Taking parents away from their children. It was just plain cruel. People said there was a reason for everything. But it was tragedies like that one that really brought out the truth about that common, optimistic saying. It was a big steaming pile of fucking bullshit.

Later, he would learn that shortly after arriving at the hospital, Dean Winchester died before they could even prep him for surgery.

_Cause of death: Massive cardiac arrest due to extensive internal and external injuries._

His only thought, when he learned of Dean's death, would be of Bray. What would happen to her? How would she get over this?

It was, without a doubt, one of the worst accidents he had ever seen. But the repercussions lasted years for the Winchester children. How did he know this? Well, he would eventually wind up becoming quite close to the remaining Winchesters, courtesy of Bray and the relationship that formed between her and Adam's son, Alex.

* * *

The news came in quickly.

As John and Mary Winchester were finishing up dinner, as Sam and Jess Winchester were trying to calm down a hysterical Connor who for some reason, kept insisting that his Mommy and Daddy weren't coming back for him, as Maria Kendall sat down to read her latest murder mystery...three phones rang.

Out of all of them, only Sam was overcome with a wave of dread and unexplainable grief before he even picked up the phone.

Mary had the worst reaction, wailing in anguish and sinking to the kitchen floor in a heap of uncontrollable sobs, John attempted to remain stoic and failed horribly, Maria screamed, clutching at her chest, Jess wept and Sam...Sam just kind of shut down.

Lives that used to be so perfect were shattered instantly when fairytales turned into nightmares.

* * *

Bray wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but she must have fallen into a fitful, possibly medically induced slumber, in the back of the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Because when she opened her eyes, she was in a room with white walls and white ceilings and sunlight poured in through the windows, making the room even brighter. The sunlight told her that the storm from yesterday had been almost forgotten in the weather department. But she would always remember that storm, always flinch at the sight of rain and always clap her hands over her ears when the sound of the wind got too loud. Sleepy and uncoordinated, she reached up to rub her eyes and when her vision cleared, she caught sight of blond hair and let her hope soar. ''Mommy?'' Her voice sounded weak and hoarse and her mouth tasted gross and felt uncomfortably dry.

The blonde turned around and Bray's heart sunk. ''Auntie Jess?''

Jess' eyes lit up with relief at the sight of the girl and she crossed the room in three quick strides, fingers gently brushing hair out of Bray's eyes. ''Hey, sweet pea,'' she greeted and her voice sounded so sad it made Bray frown. ''How do you feel?''

''Can I have some water?'' Bray asked tentatively, in order to dodge the earlier question. She felt like crap. That was how she felt. But she wasn't supposed to use that word.

''Oh, sure, sweetie.''

Bray's eyes watered slightly at the gentle, motherly tone of Jess' voice and she didn't say anything in return, not even a 'thank you' when Jess helped her sit up to drink her water. It wasn't that she didn't love Auntie Jess, because she did. The woman had been around practically her whole life. It was just that she sounded so much like her mom. ''I thought you were my mom,'' the girl admitted sheepishly, once her throat was less parched and she could talk properly.

Auntie Jess looked away for a moment, blinking and Bray was quite sure she was blinking away tears. ''Oh, Bray...''

Jess paused and shook her head, seemingly searching for the right words to say. Before she could find those right words to say, however, the door opened and Uncle Sammy entered. Bray was momentarily taken aback by his appearance. He looked horrible. Red eyes, unshaven, pale and his normally messy hair was ten times messier. Actually, he kind of looked like Grandpa when he was mad or upset.

''Bray.'' He stopped short when he saw her, eyes widening slightly and then he wasted no time in crossing the room and gathering her into his strong arms. He felt like Dad and Bray had to close her eyes because her eyes were burning. ''How's my girl?'' He murmured in her ear.

That was when her attempts to remain strong and stoic failed miserably because as soon as he whispered those words that she had heard so many times, she started to cry. ''Where's my Dad?'' She choked out. ''I want...I want my Daddy.''

Uncle Sammy pulled away from her and shared a red rimmed look with Auntie Jess that made her breath catch. Something was very wrong here. ''Babe,'' Uncle Sammy said after a very long time. His voice was quiet and hesitant and it wavered dangerously like he was seconds away from crying. That scared her. He held her hand in his own and met her eyes. ''There's...There's something I need to tell you. About your dad...''

* * *

It didn't seem right. It definitely didn't seem fair. How could time continue to move on without Mom and Dad? How could the world keep spinning if Mom and Dad weren't here? What was life going to be like now? What would happen to her and Connor? Who was going to make her tomato rice soup when she was sick and sing to her when she couldn't sleep? Who was going to make sure Connor always had his inhaler or make cookies for the school bake sale even if they did end up burnt? _Who was going to answer these questions?_

She was quite confident in her abilities to care for her brother. She had been doing it her whole life even if she had never really needed to before. Okay. So, she could take care of Connor. But who was going to take care of her?

Grandma had tried to tell her and Connor, in between weeping, that their Mom and Dad had gone to live with the angels, but Bray wasn't quite sure she believed that. Angels were supposed to be good. Why would something good take her parents away? The car accident had not only stolen away her parents, but it had also robbed her of whatever strip of innocence she had. So you know what?

_Fuck_ angels.

She wanted her parents back.

* * *

Things changed after that night.

_She_ changed.

She became sullen and withdrawn, that happy, bubbly girl she had once been merely a distant memory. The sight of the crash was soon littered with candles and flowers and pictures, the two little white crosses a makeshift vigil for the _two young parents lost in the tragic accident, _said the newscasters. All of Lawrence made a big show of grieving with them and reaching out to the Winchester family. Mostly with casseroles and banana bread and promises to pray for them. Local news stations and newspapers wanted comments and public announcements and people she didn't even know kept coming up to her and _hugging her_. She took those hugs for the team and made sure no one ever touched Connor because of germs and Mom was always paranoid when he got sick because of how small he was and his asthma and something about his immune system.

(Eventually, Dean would be posthumously honored for his ''service to the community'' as a Lawrence firefighter and Ruby's photographs would become even more popular because you're never really an artist until you're dead, right?)

But the thing that broke Bray's determined silence was none of the above. It was a newspaper article that came out right after the crash and right before the funeral. She probably wasn't supposed to see it but she was a sneaky one. When Connor started crying for Mom and the rest of the family tried to comfort him, Bray snuck away. She hated the tears. But then she read the article and decided she hated it even more.

* * *

_**Crash Kills Two Young Parents  
**_Article by Lorraine McKinnon  
_Dean and Ruby Winchester, both 35, lifelong residents of Lawrence, Kansas, were killed Friday night when their SUV spun out of control on the rain slicked highway and collided with a tree. Dean Winchester, a firefighter in Lawrence, received critical injuries and died soon after arriving at Lawrence General Hospital. Ruby Winchester (nee Kendall), a local photographer and business owner, was pronounced dead at the scene. Their 11-year-old daughter, Lila, who had been sitting in the backseat of the vehicle at the time of the collision, sustained minor injuries to her face and arm but is expected to make a full recovery. Police are trying to determine whether or not speeding, alcohol or driver error were contributing factors in the single car crash. ''Absolutely not,'' says Winchester family friend, Victor Henrickson, a decorated Police Officer in Lawrence. ''Dean would never do any of those things. Not with his girls in the car. He was a good father and a good husband and he was unchangeably responsible. He would never risk their lives.'' Ruby's Aunt, Melanie Phillips, blames the weather conditions. ''It had been raining hard all day. The roads were wet and slippery. It was an accident, that's all it was. I know Dean and I know he would never endanger his life or the lives of his family members like that.'' Indeed, weather is a likely culprit. On the day of the crash, Lawrence had experienced the worst thunderstorm in over 20 years. (For full storm report, turn to page 16.) The couple leaves behind two children, ages 11 and 6, and many other beloved family members. The Winchester family could not be reached for comment at this time but Ruby's mother, Maria Kendall, assures the public that the family is ''heartbroken'' over the loss of the couple._

* * *

Despite the fact that at least Uncle Victor and Aunt Mel had made attempt to quell the awful rumors circulating not only in the newspaper, but all around town, Bray couldn't help but feel betrayed. All of those people she didn't know would write the accident off as a case of driver stupidity. They would all wind up tarnishing her father's pristine memory by believing and spreading the hurtful rumor that said it was Dad's fault this happened. They were all going to pin this terrible accident and the following repercussions on Dad!

It made her blood boil, it made her hands shake and, for the first time since she woke up in the hospital, it made words bubble in her throat. Hands clenching the newspaper, crinkling the paper, she marched right into the living room just after Connor had been whisked away by Grandma and Auntie Jess and she faced Grandpa and Uncle Sammy with fire in her eyes. She was so angry she was actually physically trembling and tears were blurring her vision. ''They're going to blame this on Daddy!'' Her voice, a scream tinged with desperation and anger, a wail that seemed to shake the house, trembled and stunned both her grandfather and uncle into silence.

They both stared at her for a minute before they shared a look and then Uncle Sammy hesitantly spoke her name in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, ''Bray...''

''Read it!'' She demanded shrilly, shoving the newspaper at them. ''Read what they're saying about Dad!''

''I've read it, Bray,'' Grandpa said calmly. ''We all have. However, you shouldn't be - ''

''I don't care!'' She screamed, feeling tears prick her eyes painfully. ''I don't care if I shouldn't. I don't care if this is something I shouldn't see because...because that's my Dad...'' Her voice cracked and her throat ached as stubborn and persistent tears leaked out of her eyes despite her best efforts not to let them fall. ''That's my Daddy and it wasn't his fault. The roads were slippery because of the rain and the wind was really strong, but...but it wasn't Daddy's fault. He didn't mean to crash, it just happened! And people should know that!'' A sob caught in her throat and she swiped at the tears raining down her cheeks to no avail. ''People need to know that it wasn't his fault!'' She paused again to catch her breath, strangled sobs forcing their way out of her throat and both Grandpa and Uncle Sammy were looking at her with sad Winchester eyes. Neither one of them looked like they knew what to say to the distressed girl.

''Bray,'' Uncle Sammy forced out at last, voice catching. ''Babe - ''

''I don't want Connor to...I don't want him to think it was Dad's fault,'' Bray said adamantly, swallowing her sobs down. ''He already has to live without him. I want Connor to grow up remembering Mom and Dad the way they were when they were happy. I'm the one...I'm the only one...who was to remember watching them die.'' It was an incredibly grown up statement from an incredibly young girl and it clearly struck both men like physical blows because Uncle Sammy couldn't talk anymore, rubbing at his tired and weary red eyes and Grandpa couldn't look her in the eye.

Bray snatched up the newspaper once more and tore it in half, watching the pieces fall silently to the ground. She stared at them a moment, like they were her parents ashes floating away from her forever and then she closed her eyes and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. ''People should know that,'' she whispered. ''People should know who they really were.''

And then she turned on her heel and ran.

**end chapter three**

* * *

**Ye-e-ah. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I like the newspaper article and when she's talking to her uncle and grandfather, but it's the outsider's pov part that I'm not sure about. That's the part with the paramedic dude, Alex's father. It was supposed to be more...something. Oh, well. I quite liked the newspaper article so that makes up for it. Oh, hey, does anyone remember Alex Crowell from 'a ghost of you'?**


	4. If I'm alive now

_AN: Yeppers. Here we go. There's some really emotional parts in this chapter with Bray. I mean, the whole damn thing is emotional, but this has...I don't want to ruin it! Just have tissues handy. That's all I'm giving you._

_The title of this chapter comes from the poem Love Letter by Sylvia Plath._

_Suggested Listening:__  
Here With Me by Dido  
Airplanes by B.o.B ft Hayley Williams  
Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap_

**Disclaimer: **I still do not own anything.

* * *

**Tell me my name**

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

**Part Four  
**_''If I'm alive now''_

* * *

Bray didn't like crying. Never had. She didn't like how weak it made her seem. That was clearly her parent's genes talking. Neither one of them had liked to cry either. They would bottle everything up until it exploded. Bray hated crying. That was just the way she was. But she sure seemed to be doing it a lot these days. She couldn't help it. She couldn't stop those tears from filling her eyes and she couldn't stop them from spilling over. She was powerless.

The nights were the worst. The nights were when the memories of her parents would strangle her and squeeze the tears out. Connor had taken to sleeping with Uncle Sammy and Auntie Jess at night because he was still crying himself to sleep and most likely because Bray wasn't the only one who thought Uncle Sammy felt a lot like Dad and Auntie Jess sounded a lot like Mom. But Bray...

...She had to sleep alone.

It wasn't as if she had been shoved in her dark room and locked away forever. Grandpa had offered to stay with her and Grandma didn't like her being alone so much there was talk of her and Connor sharing a room once everything got settled down. But Bray had adamantly refused their offers. If she was going to cry, she preferred to cry alone without anyone seeing her. She was a lot like her parents. Along with neither one of them liking crying, neither one of them had liked people to see them cry either. (Except maybe each other.)

At night, she slept alone in her bed and cried herself to sleep because whenever she closed her eyes, she saw it all again. Nightmares plagued her like a sickness sending her bolting upright in the middle of the night, cries for her parents resting heavily on her tongue. She never did scream. Never cried out. She just breathed in deeply and lay back down with stinging eyes and an aching throat. Much like her parents, she didn't like showing weakness. Because of that, she bottled it all up inside of her and waited to explode. People asked her if she was all right daily.

Every other thing was ''Are you doing all right, sweetie?'' And every time, she nodded slowly and blinked, staring at them like she was staring right through them.

* * *

The funeral came much too quickly for her taste.

Grandma, still trembling, lips still wobbling, eyes still glassy, dressed her and Connor all in black and nobody said anything at all to each other on the way to the church. Bray hated her uncomfortable itchy dress because it clashed wildly with the purple cast on her arm and she was about a hundred percent sure Connor would never be able to sit still the whole time and she just really did not want to go to the stupid funeral.

It was a joint funeral because apparently ''that was what they would have wanted.'' When she was told that, Bray dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands and bit back a snarl of, ''Do you know what they _really_ would have wanted? To be _alive._'' Grandma Maria fought the whole joint funeral thing with all she had and during her protests, she had all but admitted that she was determined to blame Bray's innocent father for the crash so all respect Bray might have had for her barely there grandmother who lived far away was totally stripped away with that confession.

Bray was determined to hate this funeral.

Dad had always hated funerals and Mom had always hated churches so what was the point of this thing?

The place was packed when they got there. Everyone was there. It seemed like the whole town of Lawrence had showed up for her parent's funeral. From Grandma Maria, who immediately took her grandchildren into her arms and cried until Uncle Sammy had to lead her away and despite that, Bray felt nothing for the woman anymore, to Uncle Victor and his family. From her friends at school, Maisie waved and smiled sadly and Alex looked at her for a moment that seemed to last forever before he ducked his head, to Dad's firefighter friends and their families. Even Dad's friend Jimmy Novak was there with his wife and daughter. He looked very distraught.

And everyone was looking at her. They were looking at her with pity in their eyes as if to say, 'oh, there's the poor dear who was in the car with her parents when they died, what a shame.'

She sat down in the front, expressionless and blank, and ducked her head so she didn't have to look at the coffins in front of her or the picture of her smiling parents that made her clench her jaw. Unlike her, Connor sat down next to Grandma, clutched his sister's hand tightly and stared at the large picture of his parents intently.

The service was long and it seemed like everybody cried except her. She never looked up. Connor never looked away. Uncle Sammy got up to talk but couldn't even get through the first sentence so Jimmy got up to help. It seemed like it went on for all of eternity. All around her everyone was crying and it felt like the smiles of her parents, frozen in time, were burning a hole through her and just when she thought she was going to lose it, she looked up and saw Grandpa. Like her, he wasn't crying. Instead, he was looking straight ahead with his lips pinched together except Bray got the impression he wasn't really seeing anything at all. He was holding Grandma's hand in his own and Bray breathed in deeply, keeping her gaze focused on Grandma and Grandpa's entwined hands.

Before she knew it, the service was over.

* * *

There was no wake after the funeral because everyone knew Mom and Dad had hated them, but Grandma and Grandpa's house still managed to fill up with people. It was enough people for Bray to feel lost in. She felt odd. Disconnected from the world and all alone in a crowd full of people. She wanted to cry or something, but there was nothing coming.

Connor was still clinging to people, hiding behind Uncle Sammy's legs and glancing up at the unfamiliar people his uncle was shaking hands with. Auntie Jess was off somewhere probably feeding Cara, Grandma and Grandpa were talking to their guests and it was almost like everyone else couldn't see her. Like she was invisible. Either that or they were all avoiding her because they didn't know what to say to her. It didn't really matter to her. She didn't feel like talking anyway. She took advantage of everyone's distraction and slipped away before they could notice.

She made her way into the backyard and stood in the sun that felt too bright, waiting for someone to realize she was gone. No one did. After awhile, she experimentally moved towards the front of the house. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her pulse was racing. She felt almost invincible as she neared the sidewalk out front of her grandparent's house. The house where her father had grown up, where her parents had gotten married, where she had taken her first step and where Connor had said his first word. Nothing could touch her. She was all on her own and nobody was running after her to tell her to be careful. She felt like a rebel. For about half a second, it wasn't a bad feeling at all.

But then she remembered that if her parents were here, they would have noticed she was gone the second she stepped out the back door. They'd notice she was gone. But they weren't here, now were they? She whirled around to face the front of the house, looking so much like her mother that if her Grandma Maria had looked out the window, she would've sworn she was looking at the eleven year old version of her daughter again. Bray looked at the big old house for a moment, torn between wanting someone to miss her and wanting to be left alone and then she made a split second decision that she would probably most likely regret.

She turned and ran away from the big old house that had been home to so many events in her parent's lives and she didn't look back.

* * *

Surprisingly, dark came before she was found. That didn't necessarily mean no one had realized she was missing, of course. It just meant they hadn't found her yet.

Earlier in the day, she had watched what was left of her parents being lowered into the ground for all of eternity. Connor flipped out when it happened, demanding to know where they were taking his Mommy and Daddy. Grandma had been too busy sobbing and Auntie Jess had been holding tightly to Grandpa's hand with Cara on her hip so the task of calming Connor down had fallen on poor Sam who was barely keeping it together as it was. The scene at the gravesite had scared her so much that she had vowed to never return. She had never seen her brother act like that. He was hysterical. He nearly threw himself into their mother's graves, screaming that he wanted to be with his mommy.

But there she was. With her mother on her right and her father on her left, she lounged in slightly damp grass staring at the stars and feeling completely detached from the world. It frightened her a little. How she couldn't feel a thing. She was just numb. She twirled a rose in between her fingers and wished it had thorns. It didn't have thorns, but the stem was strong and powerful, like a tower, but its petals were soft and crushable. It reminded her of her parent's relationship. It reminded her of her parents. Beautiful but deadly if you happened to come across a thorn. Rolling onto her stomach, she eyed the temporary grave markers on her mother's grave with disgust. It looked so flimsy and unimportant and when it came to Mom, nothing about her was unimportant. Her eyes drifted to her father's grave and she dug her fingers into the fresh dirt.

Slowly, she brought up a handful of dirt and placed it on the grass. Then she did it again. And again. Her mind wandered to morbid topics and she found herself wondering what Mom and Dad looked like now, in the dirt and the dark. Were they pale? Gray? Would they frighten her if she saw them? It had been about a week. Were they still beautiful? Their caskets had been closed at the service due to her mother's head injuries and Grandma's reluctance to see her son all rigid and dead and at the time, she had been relieved. Who wanted to stare at their parents dead bodies in a church that smelled heavily of flowers? But now all she wanted was to see her parents one last time.

When she snapped back to reality, she stared at the pile of dirt in front of her and it took her a moment to realize, with a wave of horror and nausea, that she had actually been _digging up her father's grave._ Something built in her throat, either a sob or a scream, and she scrambled away from the graves desperately blinking away tears. Rising to unsteady feet, she stood in the moonlight and stared at the graves until her vision blurred and she felt something very familiar.

Someone was watching her.

Turning to face her audience, she found herself staring straight at Grandpa.

He studied her silently for a minute, head tilted to the side and when he didn't say a word, she looked away from him. There were dead bodies under her feet, under grass and dirt and that should have scared her. But it didn't. She felt just as gray and cold as her parents. ''I don't care,'' she stated, the tone of her voice bold and brave. ''If I worried you...if you're angry...I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore.''

''Not even your brother?''

She faltered and closed her eyes, sucking in a sudden breath of air. Feeling just a little less numb at the mention of her little brother, she glanced over her shoulder slowly.

''You're all he has left, Bug,'' Grandpa said softly. ''Imagine how he would feel if you left him.''

''Don't,'' she warned. ''Don't do the guilt thing. Just go home.''

''But you're right here,'' he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

''I'm not your home,'' she declared hollowly.

''My family is my home,'' he said. ''You're family. You're home.''

She frowned and couldn't quite manage to come up with something to say to that. No one had ever told her she was home before. Crossing her arms as a cold breeze blew through her hair, she focused her eyes back on the graves. ''They were alone,'' she whispered, a hitch in her voice and it was almost like she could feel again. ''I didn't want them to be alone in the dark. It's scary in the dark and they won't be able to see. Oh,'' horror filled her eyes and propelled her forwards, her knees landing in the soft grass. ''What if they can't find each other, Grandpa? Dirt will get in their mouths and eyes and they won't know they're not alone. They'll be scared. I don't want them to be scared.'' She felt like she should have been crying, but her eyes were still bone dry.

''It's not them,'' Grandpa said firmly. ''Those things we buried...it's not them. They're gone. We buried shells. That's all. They're not in there anymore.''

''Where did they go?'' She turned her head to throw her grandfather a curious look, lips turned down into a slightly disbelieving frown.

He seemed to pause, frowning deeply as he licked his lips. ''Somewhere better than here,'' he said, adding in a murmur she wasn't supposed to hear. ''I hope,'' she sighed, picked up her discarded rose from the ground and toyed with the velvety feeling petals for a second before she plucked them off the flower one by one. Rose petals littered the ground like drops of blood and as she watched the last one fall, she suddenly had a flashback of the blood dripping from her mother's lifeless fingertips and the blood that coated her father's hands. She dropped the rose stem like it was made out of fire and bit down hard on her lip, trying to regain control of her breathing.

''Grandpa?'' She spoke softly, after a long two minutes of silence.

''Yes, Bug?''

''Did I die too?'' She said it so casually and straightforward it was as if she were asking him the time. He seemed stunned by the question, downright floored, but she hardly cared as she stood and brushed off her clothes.

''What?'' Grandpa croaked out. ''Bray - ''

''I think I'm dead too,'' she stated matter-of-factly. ''I think I died in the car crash too. I think that's what happened. Am I dead, Grandpa? Am I even really here? Because I don't feel like I'm here at all.'' He was still staring at her with dark eyes that suddenly looked so lost and tortured in the glimmer of the moonlight. ''I think I'd rather be dead,'' she continued. '' 'Cause if I'm alive that means Mom and Dad left me here all alone without them and they'd never do that. Yes,'' she nodded adamantly and felt her lips tremble. ''I must be dead and I'm in the dirt too.''

''You know, it takes a lot to scare me, Bug,'' Grandpa's voice startled her. Not because it was loud, but because it sounded hoarse and choked and almost like he was...crying. ''But right now you are scaring the hell out of me.''

''I'm sorry,'' she whispered, earnestly. ''I don't mean to scare you. It's just...if I were dead I'd be with my Mom and Dad. Maybe then I'd feel better. Maybe if I was dead I'd feel...I'd just _feel_. Can I be dead?'' She lifted her eyes to the sky and moved off to the side, fire igniting in her blue eyes as she stared intently at the stars. ''Make me be dead,'' she ordered the heavens. ''It'll be so much better. Please. Just...let me be dead.'' When nothing happened, when lightning didn't strike her down, when the earth didn't quake and shiver and swallow her whole she felt a giant tidal wave of something crash down upon her. It made her breath catch. She _felt. _She just wasn't sure what it was she was feeling. Tears pricked at her eyes and she gulped in a much needed breath of air to soothe her aching lungs.

A soft, almost inaudible noise sounded behind her and when she turned around, she froze. Grandpa was in front of Dad's grave, on his knees, hand over his face, shoulders shaking terribly. He was _crying_. She silenced, eyes burning, throat aching. She couldn't remember ever seeing Grandpa cry. Because Grandpa...Grandpa was a _tower_. He was strong. Always strong. In her eleven years on earth, she was sure she had never seen him cry. But there he was, on his knees in front of his son's grave and he was crying his eyes out. ''Do you see?'' He whispered and Bray was about a hundred percent sure that his voice was not directed to her but to her father, lying cold in the dirt. ''Do you see what you've done, Dean? How you've both left us? I knew you'd follow that girl anywhere. I knew that. But I never thought you'd follow her to death.''

Bray shook her head when she felt tears welling up in her eyes. In her head, she could see it all happening again. The accident, Mom dead, Dad dying, her crying. Crying hadn't helped them then, how would it help now?

''Bray,'' Grandpa said in a strangled voice thick with tears as he turned his eyes to his granddaughter. ''This family has already lost so much. We don't want to lose you too. Please...come home.''

Her sniffles started out quiet but got louder fast, a gulping mess of sobs that seemed to echo through the trees. She so desperately wanted to stop crying like a fool, but she couldn't. She was _feeling_ all of a sudden and soon she decided that feeling felt awful. She clearly took her numbness for granted. ''They're not coming back,'' she cried, stepping towards the graves, tears pouring down pale cheeks. Her words were not a question, but a statement. She was smart. She knew Mom and Dad weren't coming home. ''They left me here,'' she uttered, almost as if she couldn't believe it. ''They died and left me here all alone. I'm not dead. I'm here and they're...not.'' She shook her head again, vision blurred with tears she couldn't wipe away fast enough. ''I don't want to be dead,'' she admitted with a sob. ''I just want them to come home.'' She broke down in another convulsion of sobs and the next thing she knew Grandpa had his arms around her and she was sobbing into his shirt, but that was okay because...because he was crying into her hair.

All her life, she had these two people who had seemed so indestructible to her. They had been the center of her universe. To her the world began and ended with them. They meant everything to her. More than everything. And then they were just gone, their lives extinguished just like that.

So what else could she do but cry?

**end chapter four**

* * *

**AN: Well! I think that part with Bray and John was more emotional to write than the actual car crash. Their grandfather/granddaughter conversation really got to me. Oh, did you get that little mention of Jimmy Novak in there? I thought that was fun. I don't know how he knew Dean, but he did.**


	5. She comes and goes

_AN: It's sad, it's short, I hope you cry. Is that mean? Oh! But there's a sweet little Bray/Connor moment that I liked writing. It shows how Dean-like she is._

_Title of this chapter is from the poem Mirror by Sylvia Plath._

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

**Tell me my name**

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

**Part Five  
**_''She comes and goes''_

* * *

It seemed to be an unspoken agreement that Bray and Connor would be handed over to their grandparents.

Well, that sounded bad, didn't it?. It made them sound like objects. _Handed over._ Like they were pieces of furniture. But that was the way things were. What could they do about it? The entire...well, what was left of the Winchester family had all been staying under one roof since The Accident but eventually, they were all going to have to get back to normal. The only problem was no one knew what normal was anymore.

It had somehow been decided amongst the adults that the house that had been home to Bray and Connor their whole lives would be put up for sale (too many memories), the children would move in with their grandparents and eventually go back to school, Sam and Jess would deal with Dean and Ruby's possessions and cars, Jess would take over Ruby's store and somehow, someway, life would continue. Everything was planned so neatly. It was almost as if you could tie a neat bow right around their simple sounding plans. Of course, lurking beyond the simplicity were problems that they would all have to face. Like, how the heck were they going to break it to the kids? How the fuck was Sam going to go through his dead brother's belongings without bursting into tears? What about money? Ruby's cameras? Dean's car? Everything sounded simple. But no one had really thought anything through.

Just as the dust began to settle, somebody had the guts to mention Dean and Ruby's will (that they had, surprisingly, updated not long before their deaths).

And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

The dust that had settled was suddenly kicked up again, quite violently, when Bray found herself seated in a room full of adults, all with wide eyes, as all those ''carefully made'' plans were unceremoniously tossed out the window.

''Jesus, Dean,'' Sam was muttering, running a hand over his face as Jess, who looked incredibly pale, clutched at his arm. ''_Fuck_, Dean,'' Sam bit out, earning himself an arched eyebrow from his niece, who, honestly, Sam had probably forgotten was there.

''S-Say that again,'' Grandma whispered, toying with the tissue in her hands that was quickly becoming nothing but mulch.

The lawyer with the big nose and wrinkled suit peered over his glasses. ''Custody of the children will go to their uncle,'' he repeated slowly.

''Son of a bitch, Dean!'' Uncle Sammy yelped.

''Don't know why you're all so surprised,'' Grandpa grumbled, crossing his arms. ''I saw this comin' from a mile away.''

''Oh, you did, did you?'' Uncle Sammy sneered. ''Well, it woulda been nice if we had gotten a little bit of a warning, Dad!''

''Us?'' Auntie Jess squeaked. ''They want us to raise them? Holy...Holy crap.''

''Damn it, Dean!'' Sam burst out, slamming his hand down on the table.

While Auntie Jess and Grandma jumped, Grandpa looked like he was ready to throw Uncle Sammy across the room. ''You're acting like a jackass, Sam. This is what your brother wanted. You deal with it.''

''Don't talk to me like I'm a child, Dad! I'm 31!''

''You're sure not acting like it!''

And Bray, silently stewing in the corner with her arms crossed and her anger boiling inside of her unpleasantly, snapped. ''You don't want us.''

All eyes turned to her and she shrank back slightly under all of the eyes on her, but didn't back down, staring straight at her Aunt and Uncle. ''Oh, no, sweetie,'' Auntie Jess hurried, reaching across the table like she wanted to take Bray's hand, only to stop and draw her hand back. ''That's not it at all.''

Uncle Sammy sighed, no doubt cursing himself for his outburst. ''It's just that - ''

''Whatever,'' Bray snapped, rising to her feet. Her chair scraped back against the floor so loudly it made her grandmother wince but she hardly cared at all as she turned her eyes to Uncle Sammy. ''My parents are dead,'' she said lowly. ''They died and left us to you and we're what? A burden to you, Uncle Sam? Well, fine. Connor and I...we'll be just fine without you. We don't need you.'' With a glare, she turned and stalked away from her uncle, doing her best not to let the angry tears burning in her eyes fall.

* * *

Sniffling, she swiped a hand across her cheek, fingering the twenty seven stitches that had gone into her wound and marred her once perfect skin. Digging her feet into the dirt, she pushed off and swung into the air on the old swing set that had been in her grandparent's backyard since she was a baby. Watery eyes stared down at Connor's signature on her cast and unsurprisingly, her thoughts strayed towards her parents. They would know how to make everything better. They always did. Warm tears spilled over and dripped down her cheeks and her lip wobbled dangerously.

''Hi, Lilac,'' a voice said quietly and she looked up sharply at her little brother.

''Oh,'' she muttered, quickly trying to cover up the evidence that she had been crying, wiping her eyes and attempting a smile. ''Hey, Connor.''

The little boy scrambled halfway onto the swing next to her, small hands gripping the chains as he peered at her through seemingly all knowing green eyes. ''You okay?''

She stared at him for a moment, gentle breeze blowing through her hair and then she nodded, looking back towards the house. ''...Yeah.''

Connor scuffed at the ground with his foot and then clambered the rest of the way onto the swing, beginning to move back and forth slowly. ''If we move in with Uncle Sammy,'' he began after a moment. ''Will Santa know where to find us?''

She shrugged in response, kicking at the ground.

''What about our stuff? Will we get to take our stuff?''

She sighed heavily. ''Yes.''

''What about the tree in the backyard? Can we take that?''

''No.''

''What about Mommy's cameras?''

She froze and had to swallow hard. ''I don't know,'' she rasped out. ''They'll probably get packed away somewhere. In boxes probably.''

''But she needs those!'' Connor protested with wide eyes. ''How will she take pictures?''

''She won't,'' Bray said hollowly. ''Connor, Mom's...Mom's not...'' But then she trailed off and, looking into his distressed eyes, she couldn't do it.

''What about Daddy's car?'' Connor asked, this time with a shaking voice that sounded a little scared and lost. ''He said he'd teach me. What will happen to the car? Bray,'' his little eyes got even wider, looking petrified and glassy. ''What's going to happen to _us_?''

Her face crumpled and she pulled her sleeve over her uninjured wrist, wiping at her eyes. ''I don't know,'' she admitted, regretfully. ''I'm sorry. I know you think I know everything, Connor, but I don't.''

''I don't like this,'' he decided with a shake of his head. ''Things are scary without them. We're all alone. You notice that? I wish...I wish Mommy and Daddy would just come home so we could go back to the way things were. Nothing feels right anymore and everybody's sad. Even you. I...I miss them, Lilac. Do you? Do you miss them too?''

She sniffled noisily and nodded her head, barely managing to get out an ''Uh-huh'' through the tears that seemed to be choking her.

Connor didn't say anything, a silence falling between the siblings for a moment as he thought and she cried. ''Hey,'' the little boy suddenly gasped. ''Hey, Lilac, you won't die too, will you? You won't die and leave me here all alone, will you? I don't think I'd like that.''

''No, Connor,'' she managed through stifling cries, blinded by tears so much that she could barely make out her brother when he took her hand. ''I won't leave you.'' The two Winchester siblings sat in the sun for a long time without saying a word, his hand holding onto hers. When she finally managed to get her tears under control and he busied himself by playing with a strand of grass, the back door creaked open. Bray lifted her eyes, the tears on her cheeks catching in the sunlight and upon seeing her uncle she hopped off the swing and turned her eyes to her brother. ''You should go inside. It's lunch time.''

Connor frowned in response, sticking his hands on his hips haughtily. ''Grandma doesn't make sandwiches right. Not like Mommy. And she can't make grilled cheese like Daddy. She ruins it.''

''How do you ruin grilled cheese?''

He shrugged. ''Dunno, but she does. Food doesn't taste right anymore.''

''You could always tell her she doesn't make it right.''

He shook his head vigorously. ''Grandma cries when I talk about Mommy and Daddy. I don't like making her cry.''

She sighed and felt the weight of her brother on her shoulders. ''Then go watch TV and I'll make you a sandwich in a minute.''

''Okay!'' Smiling widely, he turned and started back towards the house, stopping to greet his uncle with a small toothy smile, a wave and a ''Hi, Uncle Sammy.''

Sam threw his nephew a small smile in return, ruffling the boy's hair as he passed him. With her brother's back to her, Bray narrowed her eyes at her hesitant uncle and crossed her arms. ''Go away,'' she snarled out when he got close enough. ''I don't want to talk to you.'' Determined to get her point across, she stuck her nose up in the air. She just didn't count on it making him laugh.

''You look...so much like your mother right now,'' he finally said quietly.

She softened considerably and focused her gaze on him, pressing her lips together as she studied him closely. ''What do you want?'' She snapped out, trying to sound nasty. ''Do you want to explain yourself?'' She guessed. ''Tell me why you don't want us?''

''Oh, Bray, of course we want you, babe,'' Uncle Sammy sighed. ''We love you and your brother so much it hurts. It's just...'' He broke off in a sigh and sat down on the grass next to her, looking up at her curiously. ''You're eleven, can I be honest with you? Can we have a grown up conversation?''

''Well, I don't feel much like a kid anymore.'' She sat down next to him and crossed her arms stubbornly.

He looked pained at her admission, but didn't say anything for a long time. ''Jess and I never planned for kids,'' he admitted. ''It wasn't that we didn't like kids, it was just that we weren't sure if we had the type of life that would agree with a child.''

''But you have Cara,'' she supplied.

''Cara was,'' he chuckled softly, but his eyes had that same tortured quality that seemed to have taken up residence. ''She was an unexpected surprise. I wouldn't change that, not for the world, but if I could do it again, I would have been a little more prepared. And with you and your brother...'' He paused and reached out to touch her cheek gently. ''Bray, you deserve everything and I just don't know if I can give you that.''

She snorted, plucking a piece of grass from the ground. ''And what? Grandma and Grandpa can? Come on, Uncle Sammy. They're old. Besides, newsflash, we had everything. We had a mom and a dad and a house with a tree that we could climb and Connor and I had almost managed to break Mom and Dad on the puppy issue...But now...Now we have nothing. And if you can just give us something...then it'll be enough. But...then...I...It's not that I don't love you, Uncle Sammy. It's that...your hands kind of feel like Daddy's and Auntie Jess sounds like Mom and what if...after awhile all I can feel is your hands and all I can hear is Auntie Jess' voice and I forget all about Mom and Dad?''

''Bray,'' he said seriously, meeting her eyes. ''You will never forget your parents. _Ever_. I can promise you that.''

''It's not fair,'' she whispered, tears strangling her voice. ''It's not fair that I only got eleven years with them and Connor only got six.''

''No. It's not.'' Gently tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear, Uncle Sammy pressed a kiss to her forehead. ''You're very grown up, you know,'' he said softly. ''A lot like your parents.''

She shrugged and tried not to blush. ''I guess.''

''You'd be okay with coming to live with us then?'' His voice was gentle and his smile was hesitant, as if trying not to frighten her. As if she were some kind of wild animal that would bolt if he got too close.

In response to his loaded question, she shrugged her shoulders yet again, ever the broody eleven year old, no matter how grown up her words were, and twirled a piece of grass in her fingers. ''Well,'' she said flatly. ''It's not like we have anywhere else to go.''

And that was that.

* * *

Lila Bray Winchester had been forced to grow up when her parents died. It was sad, but true. When her parents died, she forgot how to be a child. When her parents died, she became - in her own mind - completely responsible for her brother. When her parents died, she became what her father would have been in another life. When her parents died, she forgot how to be innocent. All she had left was her brother.

She was smart, like her mother and sneaky, like her father. She knew everything that was happening around her and she didn't hesitate to tell people this. Except, see, here's the thing: She did _not_ know everything. She knew almost everything. You see, she may have been brilliant and incredibly mature for her age, but there were still some things that she didn't know. There were some things that people kept from her.

For instance, there were a few chilling details about her parent's deaths that she never needed to know...

* * *

_**New Information Revealed in Case of Fatal Crash  
**_-Article by Lorraine McKinnon  
_Last month, two Lawrence residents, Dean and Ruby Winchester, both 35, were killed in a single car crash on a rain soaked highway. While weather has been named the official cause of the accident, today new information has been released about the car they were driving. A thorough investigation of the Winchester's 2011 Jeep Cherokee has revealed that the car's airbags did not deploy at the time of the collision. Officials are saying if the airbags had inflated like they were supposed to, the couples lives could have been saved. ''Had the airbags deployed, serious injuries, especially head injuries, could have been avoided. Whether or not their lives could have been spared is not known at this time,'' says Police Chief Jordan Hewitt. ''But it is strongly possible that they both could have lived with only minor injuries.'' The Lawrence Police Department has launched a full investigation in the case to determine the exact cause of the airbag failure. The Winchester family has decided to pursue a lawsuit against the car company and the lawsuit is expected to be settled out of court. Neither the Winchester family nor a representative from the car company could be reached at this time._

**end chapter five**

* * *

**AN: Yeah! Bet you weren't expecting that little twist at the end, huh? I just enjoyed writing the previous news article so much I had to do another. I really should have looked up some highway names in Lawrence though so it sounded even more official. Ooh and maybe the name of a hospital. So, who's looking forwards to teenage Bray? Because she's going to be making an appearance in the next part. Get ready for a girl who is way too much like her parents.**


	6. I know the bottom, she says

_AN: Dudes, it's teenage Lila Bray. Watch out world._

_Chapter title from Elm by Sylvia Plath._

**Disclaimer: **Oh, didn't you hear? I was mailed the rights to the characters. In my dreams.

* * *

**Tell me my name**

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

**Part Six  
**_''I know the bottom, she says''_

* * *

Robert Frost once said, _''In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.''_

And boy, was he ever right.

Time passed by in a dull blur of grays and blacks and too bright whites. There were no more colors in Bray's world. The world was gray and cold even when the sun was out and all she had was taking care of Connor. Time went by, things changed, photographs of her parents became faded with age and she knew everything that went on in her family.

(Things she did not know: The Winchester family won the lawsuit and the money they got went towards college funds for both Bray and Connor. It wasn't enough. But hey, that car took their parents away; it could at least pay for their fucking education.)

They moved in with Uncle Sammy and Auntie Jess and everyone made a half hearted attempt to move on with their lives. Years flew by in a flash, Bray and Connor grew up with their Aunt and Uncle instead of their Mom and Dad, Cara started thinking of them as her siblings because she couldn't remember anything different, Uncle Sammy and Auntie Jess became simply Sam and Jess and with every passing second, Lila Bray Winchester, the sweet and sunny little girl who thought her parents owned the world became more and more profoundly screwed up.

She even admitted it once when she was fourteen to her brother. ''Connor,'' she had said, ''I think it's possible that we're both completely and totally irreversibly fucked up.''

While Connor grew into a strong, sturdy, handsome eleven year old who poured his heart into sports and released bottled up rage and sadness in a healthy and productive way, Bray...um, didn't. Over the years, sweet and sunny became sad and lonely, sad and lonely became depressed and angry and eventually, depressed and angry ended in extremely troubled teen.

By the time she was sixteen, she was _that girl._ That girl who lost her parents, that girl who fucks around (okay, that one was untrue), that girl who drinks so much she regularly shows up drunk to school (_one _time), that girl whose red rimmed eyes _must_ showcase her drug habit (well, that and grief), that girl who no one wants to save. It was a tragic tale of loss. The child who had it all turned into the teenager who had nothing but loneliness.

People avoided her, people in her town actually, _literally_ crossed the street to the other side when they saw her coming. They whispered about her in the hallways and pointed behind her back. Her own cousin was afraid of her, her Aunt and Uncle couldn't reach her and her poor little brother couldn't see his Lilac anymore. The people at her school, including the teachers, either didn't like her or couldn't look her in the eye. Even Maisie, the girl she used to chase fairies with, had deemed her unsaveable.

In the entire school, there was just one person - one _boy _- who thought she was worth it.

Alex Crowell.

It was funny, wasn't it? The one boy she hated was the one boy who wanted to save her.

He aggravated her with his chivalry. He annoyed her with his bad boy image. He pissed her off with his hero complex. Personally, she didn't think _she _was the one he needed to save. In her opinion, he wanted to save her when he couldn't even save himself. He wanted to keep her from getting lost, but he had lost himself a long time ago. He couldn't stand up to his mother, cowering under her gaze like she was Joan Crawford or something and everything he did was just pleas for his father to notice him. He was more pathetic than she was.

And she made sure she told him that. Loudly. And often.

But he was stubborn.

He sat next to her in every class they were in together even if she never looked his way, she felt him staring at her in the hallways through her curtain of black streaked blond hair, and he either beat up, threatened or mentally messed with every person who dared to say something remotely negative about her. In her mind, she was right and he was wrong. In his mind, it was the exact opposite. Their simultaneous refusals to be wrong reminded her of something. Some_one._ Rather, someone_s. _Who was she thinking of again? Oh yeah. Her _parents._

Alex was the bad boy type. That much was clear from his wardrobe of ripped jeans and leather jackets and his motorcycle. He also had those smoldering looks down. He was the bad boy with the soft side. He was hot, badass and had a freaking_ motorcycle_. Most girls fell all over themselves in his presence. Bray wanted both him and his hero complex to drop dead. Another thing she vocalized on more than one occasion.

(But really, what she just didn't understand was why he would want to waste his time with someone as fucked up as her.)

She was just trying to drown herself. Intoxicate herself, drug herself up just enough so that she couldn't see the blood that still stained her hands. And she could not, for the life of her, understand why he wouldn't let her. She still had dreams of them, you know. While Connor had trouble picturing their father without looking at a photograph and while he couldn't quite remember the sound of their mother's laugh, if Bray closed her eyes she could still see and hear all of them.

She was a wild child who could not be tamed, a bad girl on the prowl and it was all her stupid dead parent's fault. What were they thinking? Dying on her. How _selfish._ She felt deserted. Abandoned. Alone. She blamed them because they didn't hold on. She blamed herself for not making them stay home and not somehow stopping the accident. She blamed the rain and the roads and the tree and the car. She blamed God and Angels. She'd blame the world if she could.

Her life wasn't even half over and it was already down the drain because she was _that girl._ That girl who dreamed of blood and carnage and had a permanent reminder of the accident in the form of a prominent scar on her cheek that she couldn't seem to cover up.

Lost.

It was the one word that summed up her life.

She used to be Lila Bray Winchester, the girl who smiled and lit up the world. But when her parents died, she forgot her name. Forgot how to smile, how to light up the world, she just plain forgot who Lila Bray was. She had been searching for her since to no avail.

Because without Mom and Dad and the tree in the backyard, who was she supposed to be other than _that girl_?

* * *

Now, her life most certainly wasn't a movie. But, just like in a movie, she eventually stopped fighting the desire she had for Alex Crowell. It happened in that cheesy, romance movie way, under the moonlight and the stars.

She said, ''You don't know anything about me, Alex.''

He proved her wrong. ''I know that you cry when it rains. I know that you try so hard to cover up the scar on your cheek but you shouldn't because it may have bad memories but it's part of who you are and I think it's beautiful. I know that you take care of your brother whether you need to or not. I know that you get your french fry habit from your mother and you'd die if something ever happened to your car because it was your father's and it's your most prized possession. I know that you go to the graveyard every day to visit your parents and the caretaker has stopped taking care of their graves because you do it all yourself. I know that you look like your mother and act like your father. I know that you're not as tough as you look and deep down, I know that all you really want is to be saved but the only people you'd let save you are dead and buried. And I know that you should smile more because when you do...I can almost see that little girl who loved the world so fiercely and saw everything in colors instead of black and white and gray. And...And I know that I fell in love with you when I first pulled your pigtails in kindergarten.''

''...Love is a very big word, Alex,'' she had snapped after several seconds of shocked sputtering.

''Eleven years is a very long time to wait for someone, Lila,'' he said because for some reason that was lost on her, he refused to call her anything but Lila.

And then he got on his motorcycle and drove away because he was determined to make this as movie-esque as possible.

He clearly must have thought he was like Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You and she was supposed to be Julia Stiles.

Well, great.

* * *

In the end, resistance was futile. Their rocky, sometimes violent courtship eventually ended in him deflowering her up against the wall in the girl's bathroom at school (no, she was not actually a whore. That was just a rumor. Although, Alex would later say she was like a ''wild animal'' when she got the hang of sex.)

After that, they both tumbled headfirst into a passionate yet tumultuous teenage love affair that would end up being something beautiful but deadly.

They were her parents.

Well, sort of.

Had her father been raised in a less stable home life, say, had he been raised on the road by a mentally detached father and had her mother been...not what she seemed and had they somehow found their way to each other and sunk their fingernails in deep then...yeah. Bray and Alex would have been Dean and Ruby 2.0.

But her parents were perfect, remember. They had the _everything_ type of love. So Bray and Alex weren't Dean and Ruby.

They were just Bray and just Alex.

* * *

The biggest problem in their relationship was that she didn't change for him and that was precisely what he expected her to do.

She went from being _that girl _to being one half of _that couple_.

Which was also not good.

They weren't exactly stable. They were that couple who had screaming matches in the middle of the cafeteria (which usually ended in her physically harming him in some way), verbally abused each other in the hallways (there was no one who could rile him up like she could), sped and screeched out of the parking lot in the middle of class (neither of them really had the patience for school), and had sex in empty classrooms (because danger made it better). The rockiness of their relationship clearly came from their differing personalities. He wanted to save her and she ran hot and cold just like his mother did with his father. One minute she wanted him out of her life and the next minute she was calling him up at four in the morning crying and begging him to come and get her from whatever bad part of town she had woken up in.

He may have been a bad boy, but he was not as fucked up as she was.

She was all drugs and drinking and partying as if she believed if she was enough of a bitch, her parents would actually dig themselves out of their graves to come and scold her. At her worst, she nearly overdosed (and she would have if Alex hadn't found her and rushed her to the hospital), she totaled the family car (oh, Sam was _mad_ and hey, you'd think she'd be a little more careful when driving considering everything), and she failed the eleventh grade. She was a smart girl; she could have gotten great grades. She just didn't try. She also knew that everything she was doing would wind up killing her. She just didn't give a damn.

In her very empty life, there were few things she really cared about. Her brother was number one (always had been, always would be), the rest of her family (though she hardly showed it) and, at times, Alex. Honestly, she did fall in love with Alex Crowell. They were together for the better part of three years, of course she loved him. It would have been impossible not to. The landing was just so hard that she decided to save herself from heartbreak by not showing it and treating him like utter crap. But she did love him and he did know that. Despite her flaws and stubborn personality traits, she did allow herself to tell him that one night...

* * *

''You really piss me off sometimes, Lila,'' he snarled as he pulled on his clothes in the middle of the night when she was kicking him out of bed after a night of screwing. It was never making love (oh, how she loathed that term) by any means. She didn't know how to do that. All she knew how to do was fuck and screw. She wasn't a gentle person. She could have been. But she was too damaged to be kind in bed. He wasn't really either. He had damages of his own, you know.

''Oh, relax,'' she drawled, slipping into a robe and grinning lazily, feeling both sated and a little sore as she pushed herself onto her knees. ''I'm doing this to save you a beating. You know how cruel my uncle can be when he finds you in here,'' she said simply, rising to her feet to fix the collar of his leather jacket.

''That dude scarred me for life,'' Alex muttered.

''Yeah, he does that. Just be glad he didn't scar your face. My dad would be worse though. So would my mom for that matter. She'd actually kill you and hide the body.''

He frowned at the nonchalant mention of her parents, unable to see the internal flinch of hers. ''Okay,'' he said, pressing a hand to his pocket to make sure he had his keys. ''I'll see you tomorrow, babe.''

''Hey,'' she grasped his shirt to prevent him from turning away from her. ''Kiss.'' The corners of his lips twitched slightly and he bent down to give her a quick, soft kiss before turning towards the door. She once again grasped his shirt, this time biting out a very firm, ''_Alex_.''

He rolled his eyes but turned anyway. ''How many kisses do you ne - ''

''Use the window,'' she deadpanned.

His lip curled in disgust. ''You're fucking joking.''

''Do it, Alex.''

''Fuck no. We're fucking two stories up, you psycho.''

''Do it or I call for Sam.''

He didn't budge. ''You wouldn't.''

She arched an eyebrow and cleared her throat. ''Sa - ''

He clapped a hand over her mouth roughly and shot her a withering glare. ''When are you going to stop this, Lila? When are you going to stop making me jump through hoops for you?''

She smirked at him pleasantly when he removed his hand. ''Now, what fun would that be, darlin'?''

He narrowed his eyes at her, but in the end since she wasn't giving him much of a choice, he stalked past her towards the window with a frustrated growl of, ''Fix your sex hair, woman. You look like a goddamned whore.''

She shot him a wicked looking smile and an admittedly sexy wink. ''Yes, but I'm _your_ whore.''

''You better be,'' he muttered as he unlatched the window and climbed out. ''Just don't push me,'' he said. ''Because I know you want to.''

She laughed and glided over to the window, watching him struggle to climb down the thick vines that luckily covered most of the side of the large house (having a successful lawyer as a guardian had its perks). ''Baby, you look like Spiderman,'' she chirped.

''Don't call me baby,'' he grunted. ''I'm mad at you right now.'' A vine snapped in his hand and he scrambled to grab a hold of another before he plummeted to his death. Or at least to injury. Bray, however, merely arched an eyebrow at the spectacle. ''One of these days,'' he said as he regained balance. ''I'm going to end up dying just for your entertainment.''

''But oh how romantic that would be,'' she said happily, running her tongue over her teeth. ''Dying for me. You'd be my Romeo.'' Unfortunately for Alex, when he was about two feet from the ground, another vine snapped and this time he couldn't save himself. He dropped to the ground, landing on his back with a thud and a groan. Perched on the windowsill, she grimaced at the sight and did her best to keep her laughter in. ''That looked like it hurt,'' she pointed out helpfully.

''I hate you so much right now,'' he moaned, his voice muffled by the distance now between them.

''Eh,'' she shrugged and waved a hand. ''It'll pass.'' Craving danger, she leaned farther out the window and took immense satisfaction in the panic that played across his features.

''Lila!'' He hissed urgently. ''Get back inside, you crazy bitch. You're going to break your neck.''

''If I fell,'' she singsonged. ''You'd catch me, wouldn't you, Alex?''

''You're crazy,'' he shook his head. ''You're actually, legitimately insane. You know that?''

''Don't be so dramatic,'' she said flippantly, flicking her hair out of her eyes. ''Now, run along to Mommie Dearest, Alex,'' she said meanly.

''Go have a drink, Lila,'' he shot back, equally as cruel.

''Hey, you didn't bruise your face when you fell, did you? Because people already assume that I beat on you.''

''You _do_ beat on me,'' he reminded her.

She snickered. ''All out of love, baby.''

''What the fuck ever, you certifiable brat.''

She frowned at his brush off and peered down at his scowling face. Well now, that wouldn't do. ''Alex,'' she called after him when he started towards his motorcycle that she was beginning to find unbearably hot despite her loud assurances that she hated the damn thing because it always messed up her hair and he always drove way too fast and it was always way too cold. Her voice was an octave higher than it should have been and she should have been worried that she would wake Sam and Jess, but she was much too busy having an incredibly rare serious and sensitive moment in her relationship to care. ''I _do_ love you, you know.''

He stopped short and turned back around to look up at her curiously. ''Yes, Lila,'' he said after a moment. ''I know that.''

''I'm just a little fucked up.''

''You're a little touched in the head if you ask me,'' he grumbled.

''But that's why you love me, isn't it, Alex?''

''I've loved you since we were five.''

Her frown deepened and she sighed heavily. ''I wish you wouldn't say things like that, Alexander.''

''Why? Does it scare you how much I love you? Because it terrifies me.''

She pursed her lips. ''You should go. It's late.''

Even in the dark, she could see him smirk at her before he turned away from her, sending a ''Goodnight, Lila,'' over his shoulder.

She stared after him with a racing heart and that all too familiar fluttering feeling in her stomach and then she slid off the windowsill, turned around and promptly froze. ''Oh...uh, hi, Sam. So...How are you tonight?''

In the doorway, her uncle had crossed arms, an angry frown and fire in his eyes. ''Jess,'' he said, turning to his wife. ''Am I getting gray hairs?''

* * *

Yes, she was a wild child. But there was always that one nagging question in the back of her mind, whispered to her by that little girl who lit up the world.

_''What would Mom and Dad think of you now?''_

**end chapter six**

* * *

**AN: And so begins teen!Bray's arc of fucked up-ness.**

**Uh...honestly? I didn't mean to make her **_**that**_** fucked up. But you all know how I love drama. Also, I love Alex. He's a lot like Dean. And she's a lot like Ruby. I'm going to hope they don't end up like them. Although, I do have to admit that they don't treat each other that well. But in the beginning of this chapter they're sixteen and at the end they're seventeen and what seventeen year old is amazingly stable. Add onto that two deceased parents for her and a bitchy mother and a weak father for him and you've got the recipe for two severely fucked teenagers.**

**Oh, by the way, Alex? Totally Matt Lanter.**


End file.
